In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality. Jack turned away with an aching heart. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. Mrs. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied.
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