He sent me flowers. " "What!" she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face. E. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. At length, when he saw no escape from the inevitable, he took the four title pages from the manuscripts and typed new ones, substituting Taber for Spurlock. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player.
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