“Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. I want to be with you. At last he could bear it no longer. I wanted to have something to give up. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. Placing a piece of money in Morgan's hands, he hurried out of the churchyard. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands.
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