E. Lee-o-no-ra. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. The completest capitulation would not wipe out that trouble.
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