She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. Wood, "it may be poisoned. “Women are mocked,” she said. '—'Oh! yes we are,' says he. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. But that is men all over.
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