D'ye hear. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full. I’ve got nothing to do for a month but think. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet.
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