The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. So I packed up and came to London next day. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime. Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation methods and addresses. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions.
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