58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. You shall know the truth. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica.
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