She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. . That’s why I come to tell you. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. " She paused. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined. How can you say such things? You’re too young to be married, and realize this: you’re not ready. I don’t know.
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