” He came and stood on the hearthrug close to her. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. That'll tune me up. There was another little thing he had to say. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely.
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