He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. I could not dream of loving you. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. And a broken picture that was torn when I hit him with it. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. ’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend. By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's.
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