After great exertions on both parts, the spike yielded to their combined strength, and snapped suddenly off. I saw the motor dashed to pieces against the wall, and I saw him pitched on his head into the road. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. “Dear John,” she whispered. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self.
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