” “It’s dreadful for you to be here,” he said, indicating the yellow presence of the first fog of the year without, “but your aunt told me something of what had happened. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. ‘We were wondering about that. “Let me help you,” he begged. But, I'll expose him. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence.
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