Through this, his last trial, Jack's spirits never deserted him. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. \"No, what?\" She said. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. “I tell you it was a lie!” he shouted wildly. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. How much he would be able to do for her. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. He kissed her at the door. . “It’s not for us to supplicate any more. I don’t idealize you. " "Peace!" retorted Jack, with increased bitterness. "Here are some more papers, Captain.
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