’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. I tell you that I love you, Anna, and I believe that you love me. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. “Well?” “I don’t care a rap for all these things.
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