” Cathy insisted. Some automaton within her produced in a quite unfamiliar voice the remark, “They’re playing football. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. "This suspense is worse than torture. Our quarrel's quite over. Not about girls that I date. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life.
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