Even her debt to him was a triviality now. Proper enough now, when he could not help himself, but the habit would be formed; and when he was strong again it would become the normal role, hers to give and his to receive. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. But, what is it! What did you promise?" "To offer you my heart, my hand, my life," replied Kneebone, falling at her feet.
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