“For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. A marriage in the house proved to be exciting but extremely disorganizing. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. He had heard this talk before. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. Everything in the world to live for!—fame that he could not reap, love that he must not take! What was all this pother about hell as a future state? By and by things began to stir on the table: little invisible things.
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