“You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. She made an abrupt personal appeal. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. . My goodness gracious.
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