207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am going to see you. Such a mystery as you have set up.
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