"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. This lapse was possibly due to her apparent determination to make full protest of Hilary’s conduct. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr. ’ ‘As we see. I’ve just finished my first symphony!” He said proudly. He tried again. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Wood, severely, "and go to bed.
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