“My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. ” He smiled at the naiveté of her suggestion. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. But I suppose as I’ll have to wait until you can hear me to tell you again. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. I understand nothing of what you say.
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