Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together. Paris copies London. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part. But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home.
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