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William Paterson

           Sowouldyourchildbe,madam,ifbornwithaman’spowers,andwhendisillusionedofallelse,hewouldclingforamomentlongertoyou,thewomanofwhom,beforehesawyou,hehadheardsomuch.Howyouwouldstrivetocheathim,evenasIstrovetohidemyrealselffromPaterson,andstillyouwouldstriveasIstroveafteryouknewthegamewasup.

           ThesorrowfuleyesofPatersonstrippedmebare.ThereweredayswhenIcouldnotendurelookingathim,thoughsurelyIhavelongceasedtobeavainman.HestillmetusintheGardens,butforhoursheandIwouldbetogetherwithoutspeaking.Itwassouponthelastday,oneofthoseinnumerabledrearydayswhenDavid,havingsneezedthenightbefore,waskeptathomeinflannel,andIsatalonewithPatersonontheStory-seat.AtlastIturnedtoaddresshim.Neverhadwespokenofwhatchainedourtongues,andImeantonlytosaynowthatwemustgo,forsoonthegateswouldclose,butwhenIlookedathimIsawthathewasmoremournfulthaneverbefore;heshuthiseyessotightlythatadropofbloodfellfromthem.

           “Itwasallover,Paterson,longago,”Ibrokeoutharshly,“whydowelinger?”

           Hebeathishandstogethermiserably,andyetcastmeappealinglooksthathadmuchaffectioninthem.

           “Youexpectedtoomuchofme,”Itoldhim,andhebowedhishead.“Idon’tknowwhereyoubroughtyourgrandideasofmenandwomenfrom.Idon’twanttoknow,”Iaddedhastily.

           “Butitmusthavebeenfromaprettierworldthanthis,”Isaid:“areyouquitesurethatyouwerewiseinleavingit?”

           Heroseandsatdownagain

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