“You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. Why do I want him so badly? Why do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from him? “It isn’t all of me. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day.
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