My only love is for my poor lost son. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. Holcroft, we may have been mistaken.
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