Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. "It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her toward him. Then a surge of rage welled up. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. I did not choose to mention my knowledge of this fact to your worthy father; but you may rely on its correctness. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms.
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