All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. “In self-defence I had to,” she answered. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. I can't invent; the thing won't come.
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