She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. Her pulses began to race. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. I made the pies.
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