Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. A brief calm succeeded.
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