"In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood. “Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. Instantly I knew that I was going to run away that night before he returned from the neighbouring island. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. She sensed that he was looking for her. Very romantic and all that. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered.
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