"Constance—or, rather, Mrs. Spurling and Marvel rose too. . Placing a piece of money in Morgan's hands, he hurried out of the churchyard. For the most part these were detached people: men practising the plastic arts, young writers, young men in employment, a very large proportion of girls and women—self-supporting women or girls of the student class. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly.
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