“I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. I am a murderer. What more is there to be said? She defies me!” It was extraordinary. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. The chair had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs. .
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