A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. ’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss. "Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. To them all I am nothing.
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