“Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. They are arbitrary and unjust and dogmatic and brutish and lustful. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. .
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