“My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. With a little sigh of happiness she accepted this new thing. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities. Do you understand?’ ‘Aye, sir. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. .
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