. ” He paced the room for a minute or two restlessly. But it is my fault. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?.
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