There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. ‘But to do only what one wishes, it is not always convenient. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. " "Ah, yes; that coat. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. Niente. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. " "Do you mock me?" cried Jack, levelling a pistol at him. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. "Back!" he cried fiercely. And no ill-chances.
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