“My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. "It must look sharp then, or I shall give it the slip," laughed Ben: "the gale never yet blowed as could perwent my crossing the Thames. I will make her my Grail, and some day, perhaps, if God wills, she shall become my wife!’” He looked very hard before him as he said this, and his voice was full of deep feeling.
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