’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. I care for you. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf.
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