He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. “She can’t. " "What!" exclaimed Mrs. Sheppard, shuddering violently. I am so much obliged to you for your projected benevolence. “That’s the point. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. But most of all, I wanted to love. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face.
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