“Oh. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. “I was born there. You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again. " "Hear me, Madam, I beseech you," interposed Mrs. "I have hurt you because I would not trust you. My wife doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand now. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes.
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