You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. She turned quickly. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you.
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