She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly. I don't care how lonesome it is. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. Come on. I’m so glad you’re not angry. Very well.
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