Let me only wear your livery. And now you know. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. She drew a breath, and sighed it out. I mean—I mean to do what I can. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice.
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