Stanley, and was so evidently pleased that Ann Veronica’s heart smote her. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. I was afraid of being talked about. For that matter, my future be damned. We'll have him yet. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas.
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