” She took his hand, interrupting him. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help. There were no mourners. “How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, do not go about playing the Don Quixote like this. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. His last actions were futile. I have pleaded with her—no wonder that I have pleaded with her in vain.
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