‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. Later on I could scarcely have forgiven you. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. After a series of mental gymnastics—occupying the space of a few seconds—it came to him with a shock that here was a new specimen of the species.
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