‘Imbecile. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon.
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