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The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. Easy enough. . He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON.

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