“Mine is a primitive and unstudied manner. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. A few minutes later Sir John left the room. You go to your room and ring for your maid. He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. After all, that was life.
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