"Troth, and so did you," returned the watchman; "but I couldn't belave it. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. Moments are ages now. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. I could not have spoken to her. . We went our ways. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him.
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