"Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. "Get a chair, Austin. There’d only be endless rows if I was at home. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively.
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