So kind, so good to me always. ’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face. . I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. . Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. . Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. Possessed of you, I shall have a treasure such as kings could not boast. “Hi John.
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