“Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. “I am afraid,” she answered, “that one’s friends can judge only of the externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized only by oneself— stop. ’ She sniffed and swallowed. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts.
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