I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. Dorling said deferentially. I was afraid that I might be called upon as a witness. “Ye Gods!” she said at last.
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