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I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. "I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness.
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