He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. ’ Gerald laughed and clapped him on the back. " "You are very kind, Sir," returned the widow, "but I require no support. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world.
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