. He became a little more personal and intimate. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. I was curious about that. The individual twist was always there, even in the cleverest forgeries. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. Gerald saw her extract something and leapt aside, calling a warning to Hilary. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat.
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