"Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. ’ ‘Exactement. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated.
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