One could go to him and tell him one loved him. All the same, I don’t admit it. "I could," replied Thames. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. And yet—I love you. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt.
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