He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. Perhaps I am still mad. “Sort of man who can see no further than his nose,” he remarked contemptuously. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess.
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