‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. Stanley poured wine. Wood, who appeared to be collecting her energies for a terrible explosion, "in the hope that they may prove acceptable. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. .
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