"Oh, yes!—for always!" He took her hands and pressed them upon his thrumming heart; and in this attitude they remained for some time. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. Are you sure you haven't mistaken the ward, Mr. Go away now, there’s a good lad. You are not unlike Pandora.
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