There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. . Still, one has to be reasonable. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet.
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