I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. . “And now let us leave the men alone and talk about ourselves. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. Love is one thing and friendship quite another.
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