Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand. That is what my mother used to call me. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness. They were only passers-by. He recognized me at once, and he behaved like a madman. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table.
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