“I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing. " On leaving Mr. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. "I am glad you think that," she replied. Then she was turning, ignoring the muttered cursing and the rattling that immediately ensued at the door. . There!" Out of the dark unruffled sapphire of the lagoon came vertical flashes of burning silver, singly and in groups.
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