“Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. “Please not now. . And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. ” They entered the place, a pleasant little café of the sort to be met with in the outlying parts of Paris. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory.
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