She laid her hand upon his arm. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. I have only to denounce you as a member of the family Valade. That’s my opinion, if you ask me. “There isn’t any way you could be worse than John. I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. . I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. Do get your hat, and we will go to that corner café. “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.
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