“But you must forgive me, John. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. He was followed by a great pile of black organs, hers, her female parts. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. . Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. Anna lied to you, I lied to you. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish.
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