She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. " "How so?" asked Thames. "Oh, God! would you take him from me?— would you murder him?" "His father's name?—and he is free," rejoined Rowland, holding her arms. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming.
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