“We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us. Her skin prickled. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile.
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