Then, I thought, she has repented, all will be well. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. “Thank you—and good-bye. She agreed entirely with her brother. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her.
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