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That glove is still preserved. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. She refrained. It occurred to Ann Veronica once that she had known him when he was younger, but day had followed day, and each had largely obliterated the impression of its predecessor. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. She could not hide her face. Tell me exactly what has happened.
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