The man was my husband. I want him as my friend. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. ” “The real, identical other,” said Capes, and took and bit the tip of her little finger. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this.
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