I felt—I felt living in a masked world. " "She is a matchless creature!" exclaimed the young man. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. " With this, he struck the door a heavy blow. ’ ‘No, of course you could not,’ Gerald soothed. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. It was time to leave America. .
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