Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. Sit down, I command you. "But it won't do. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. " "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow.
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