I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. Most people, every one I know else, seem to have mated with foreigners and to talk uneasily in unfamiliar tongues, to be afraid of the knowledge the other one has, of the other one’s perpetual misjudgment and misunderstandings. “Come, daddy,” said Ann Veronica, following her husband and Miss Stanley; and in the fulness of her heart she gave a friendly squeeze to the parental arm.
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