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“I am lonely. She could not say who, not yet. A failure! She must write herself down a failure! At her age, with her ambitions, with her artistic temperament and creative instincts, she was yet to be denied all coherent means of expression. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. It creaked slightly. Wood. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 10-07-2024 22:58:16
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