“So far you’ve got me and I you. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road. Pull over there. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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