She was my first love. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing.
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