They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. “I’ve broken off my engagement,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, and found her heart thumping in her neck.
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