And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat. Always at your service. “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. I just never had anything else fun to do. She regarded the young man coldly. "I do," replied Sheppard. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood.
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