"There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. “Yes. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. But I'd a mind to try whether you really loved him as much as you pretended. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool.
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