‘It is all the fault of that lantern. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts.
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