. Listen, you. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. To be with you is the best moral tonic I know. . Nothing would induce me to marry you, or any man at present. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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