She offers me no explanation, permits me absolutely no hope. I was extremely subtle—in fact, as devious as Melusine. Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. She looked away. This whole affair is truly my fault. How dreary it all looks. That’s how things are; that’s the order of the world. We shall see. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating.
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