Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. Do you think that it makes for happiness to force oneself into the extravagant belief that love is the only thing in the world worth having, and to sacrifice for it independence, self-respect, one’s whole scheme of life. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. Vee’s all right. . "What did the old fellow judge from, eh, Joan?" asked he. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. Presently he turned to Courtlaw. They had cried a little, both.
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