"Can I help you, Jack?" asked Thames, taking up a plane. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his. The jailers robbed the prisoners: the prisoners robbed one another. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature.
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