The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. He called a waiter. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. “Under the Wilde Frau—which was named after you. "Here is my purse; and I trust you will let me know to whom I am indebted for this important service. He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise.
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