“And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. The rest of his attire was nondescript. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it.
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