In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. She was unusually soft and gentle in her manner to him. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. His hands were exploring her once again in the car. “I will not have this slavery. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. White,” she remarked.
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