The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. . “I might go home, I don’t know. You are to come home. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. He destroyed her clumsily made dolls whenever he found them. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly.
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