“‘Angry?’ he repeated, in his lowest, gentlest tones. ‘Angry with you? – Oh, my poor boy, were you to blame for being kind to me when I was ill in the old west-country inn? And was I to blame for feeling your kindess thankfully? Was it our fault that we never doubted each other, and never knew that we were traveling together blindfold on the way that was to lead us here? The cruel time is coming, Allan, when we shall rue the day we ever met. Shake hands, brother, on the edge of the precipice – shake hands while we are brothers still!’”
page 540*, Armadale, Wilkie Collins. Read Review.
*On Eucalyptus Reader App for iPhone