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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"A Spirit in Prison"

And I do not care. I do not care a bit! But you think me a stupid
boy. And I am not that. And I will show you." He drew his fingers
together, and bent towards her, slightly lowering his voice. "From the
first, from the very first moment, I have seen, I have understood all
that is happening here. From the first I have understood all that was
against me--"
"Marchese--!"
"Signora, pardon me! You have spoken, the Signorina has spoken, and
now it is for me to speak. It is my right. I come here with an
honorable proposal, and therefore I say I have a right--"
He put his fingers inside his shirt collar and pulled it fiercely out
from his throat.
"E il vecchio!" he exclaimed, with sudden passion. "E il maledetto
vecchio!"
Hermione's face changed. There had been in it a firm look, a calmness
of strength. But now, at his last words, the strength seemed to
shrink. It dwindled, it faded out of her, leaving her not collapsed,
but cowering, like a woman who crouches down in a corner to avoid a
blow.


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