‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. “I want to be your friend,” he said. She would never, never go back.
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