\" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. Yet she never once thought of changing it.
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