I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. ” “But don’t you see how I must stand to you? Don’t you see how it bars us from being lovers—You can’t—at first.
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