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She had no intention of fighting fair. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. ” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. She took his hand in hers. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world.
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