Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. "Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge.
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