It was perfectly legitimate. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. Surely our advice would have been worth having, at any rate. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts.
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