And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one.
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