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Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. Here was an experienced man of the world, her friend, who evidently took a great interest in this supreme topic and was willing to give her the benefit of his experiences! Why should not she be at her ease with him? Why should not she know things? It is hard enough anyhow for a human being to learn, she decided, but it is a dozen times more difficult than it need be because of all this locking of the lips and thoughts. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. She learned quickly, absorbing all she could as quickly as possible as her adoration grew for him. I know nothing about the matter, but I feel convinced that you are right. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo.
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