In truth, she would quite like to have him rescue her. That’s how things are; that’s the order of the world. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. When he awoke, it was late in the day; but though he heard voices outside, and now and then caught a glimpse of a face peeping at him through the iron grating over the door, no one entered the prison, or held any communication with him. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief.
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