And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat.
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