I can't invent; the thing won't come. You and I. Beck, it smells wonderful in here. Slowly and reluctantly she came to realize that Vivie Warren was what is called an “ideal. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself.
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