A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. —I do not congratulate you on your success. But, here they are. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. ” Diane purred. The storm burst upon them in its fury. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace.
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