It was my destiny to have her. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. ‘Parbleu, you waste time. But, bloodan'-'ouns! man, if ould Nick himself were to hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin' him another.
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