"Yes, or no?" "I will make no terms with you," rejoined Wild, sternly. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. I want her to tell me the whole truth about this extraordinary marriage. But I mean to have them. I’ve been thinking, you know—I’m not sure that primarily the perception of beauty isn’t just intensity of feeling free from pain; intensity of perception without any tissue destruction. “You are a thousand times more beautiful,” he said, “than anything else could be.
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