By a sort of instinct. I can’t love you. ” She said wistfully. " "Done!" cried the old sailor. She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. ” There was a strange look in her face, the look of a frightened child.
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