Let me put the main question to you now that I could not put the other afternoon. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. Hers were less noble, yet stately. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles.
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