“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. Love!” He held her arm and abandoned it again at her quick defensive movement. . It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. " "Rather behind me;" and he spoke no more that morning. No— no, it must never be.
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