Think if your own mother was alive!” He paused, deeply moved. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. And here are these places, full of contagion! “Of course, this is the real texture of life, this is what we refined secure people forget. Mr. Servants were passing backwards and forwards with tea and chocolate. "Oh, yes!—for always!" He took her hands and pressed them upon his thrumming heart; and in this attitude they remained for some time. Listen to your mother's prayers, and do not let her die brokenhearted. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. Besides, I have my doubts that he is so very sick.
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