‘Then let her keep her Frenchified titles to herself. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. Don't be afraid—I won't hurt you. "To-morrow I will take you to him.
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