The shouts of indignation—the frightful yells now raised baffle description. I’ve never met any one like you. " "Afraid?" "Yes. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. That’s— that’s my private life. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant—until I met your sister.
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