β For a moment he looked daunted. "Do you take me for a thiefcatcher, like Jonathan Wild, that you dare to affront me by such a proposal?" "No offence, Sir," rejoined the jailer, humbly. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. βIs it your maid?β he asked. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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