Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. I feel a mixture of beast and uncle. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. I’ll buzz him for you. .
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