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They don’t count, and I don’t care. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. "I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar,—"by your advice, Thames. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour.
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