“My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. A failure! She must write herself down a failure! At her age, with her ambitions, with her artistic temperament and creative instincts, she was yet to be denied all coherent means of expression. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. ” “I’ll frame it—when I get it. I love you all the more for the streak of sheer devil in you. He'll mend, I hope.
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