Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. “Dear me!” he said. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. It is bad policy.
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