In this letter, which is addressed to my ill-fated mother, he speaks of his friendship for Sir Rowland, whom it seems he had known abroad; but entreats her to keep the marriage secret for a time, for reasons which are not fully developed. I—well, I lost my temper. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. I hate children.
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