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And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. ” She stared hard at her finger-nails. Nevertheless Sydney, clumsily, but earnestly, had something to say about it. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. Nice position. Jack looked towards the door. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. If I were to marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life—a sort of parasitical creature without blood or muscle.
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