But, what is it! What did you promise?" "To offer you my heart, my hand, my life," replied Kneebone, falling at her feet. Their conversation hung. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. The only thing they don’t fight over is the addition. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting.
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