" "Perhaps not," replied Jack, carelessly. Gianfrancesco’s had curved differently and was darker. F. Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. It was a haunted place. Except for a few early ebullitions of passion, natural to a warm and romantic disposition, and leaving no harmful after-effects—ebullitions that by the standards of the higher truth I feel no one can justly cast a stone at, and of which I for one am by no means ashamed—I come to you a pure and unencumbered man. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up.
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