You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him. So get up, and let's be off. I don’t want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare. Why not? Quite willing. "Spring!—I never knew any.
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