“Do come and see the Michaelmas daisies at the end of the garden,” said Mr. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. He brought into service all his Oriental bar-room tricks. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. And yet—I love you. In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls.
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