"I didn't awake you, because you seemed tired. "Dead!" echoed the boy. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. Earles watched her anxiously. She was gone. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. “You haven’t come here to make a lot of difficulties?” she asked. For a time it really seemed all-sufficient to her that she should love. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. Gosse sneered. Nothing at all. It’s no good.
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