She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. In fact, the whole face had undergone a transformation. ‘Even the nuns they say I am like a devil. "I'll admit that. “Well,” he said at last slowly, “I’ll pay it. ” She said to them, raising her head to speak, her voice unsteady. " "Try to leave the room, and see whether I daren't," returned Jack, opening the blade. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended.
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