There were shadows under his eyes. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. ‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory.
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