“It jars. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. I like you very much, I haven’t known you enough to love you, no matter how worthy you are of love. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. The guards had great difficulty in preserving a clear passage without resorting to severe measures, for the tide, which poured upon them behind, around, in front, and at all sides, was almost irresistible. Sheppard, falling on her knees. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall.
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