58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. He described her privately to himself as a splendid girl. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. The man looked hard at him. Supper was over. “All the time he is shouting and muttering. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. CHAPTER XIV.
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