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“I know that our social order is dreadful enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. But, you see, I’m smirched. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. 9. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. "What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence. "Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began.
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