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That would be him. But days had now passed. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. . Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 03-10-2024 05:09:07