" "What is this to me, Sir?" said Trenchard, cutting him short. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. ” She grinned. ’ He could just see the glare. " The tone was neutral. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you.
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