” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated.
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