“We are clerks in the same bank. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. " "Odd's me! do you think so?" cried the host of the Trumpeter. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it.
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