She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. ‘And so also have I. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. ‘Come along. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage.
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