Forgive me. So she said: “I won’t come home. He dared not go on. Or felt it. Oh, you must believe me. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. “But I am at singing-pitch. Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. But it would be too risky.
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