"You know my motive well enough," answered Jonathan. ’ ‘I have found Mary Remenham’s daughter,’ he repeated. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. A neat tale, giving little away. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. His voice now had lost its ironies.
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