” Sir John breathed a long deep sigh. I beg that you will consider me your friend. Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. “I love your sister. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. 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. ‘You’re only making things worse, you little idiot.
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