Th' Longest Lane Will Have A Turning.

Yet It Was Very Difficult To Separate Her Interpretation, And Keep It Distinct From His Meaning.

She Freshens Me Up Above A Bit. Who'd Ha Thought That Face - As Bright And As Strong As The Angel I Dream Of - Could Have Known The Sorrow She Speaks On? I Wonder How She'll Sin. All On Us Must Sing.

How Was It That He Haunted Her Imagination So Persistently? What Could It Be? Why Did She Care For What He Thought, In Spite Of All Her Pride In Spite Of Herself? She Believed That She Could Have Borne The Sense Of Almighty Displeasure, Because He Knew All, And Could Read Her Penitence, And Hear Her Cries For Help In Time To Come. But Mr.thornton-why Did She Tremble, And Hide Her Face In The Pillow? What Strong Feeling Had Overtaking Her At Last?

And So She Shuddered Away From The Threat Of His Enduring Love. What Did He Mean? Had She Not The Power To Daunt Him? She Would See. It Was More Daring Than Became A Man To Threaten Her.

If Mr. Thornton Was A Fool In The Morning, As He Assured Himself At Least Twenty Times He Was, He Did Not Grow Much Wiser In That Afternoon. All That He Gained In Return For His Sixpenny Omnibus Ride, Was A More Vivid Conviction That There Never Was, Never Could Be, Any One Like Margaret; That She Did Not Love Him And Never Would; But That She — No! Nor The Whole World — Should Never Hinder Him From Loving Her.