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“Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. Here one might live the life of golden days. Confidence in himself would strengthen him. But I will disappoint you. I owe his mother one, and will repay the debt, with interest, to her son. ” She said. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying.
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