I believe—I believe that I must risk it. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. ‘I do not need for you to tell me this. “MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. His hand flew across the paper. I cannot live without you, Anna.
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