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He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. ‘I do not understand you. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. “Who can tell?” she said. “She contrives somehow to strike the personal note in an amazing manner. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed.
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