When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. I cannot work, I cannot teach. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. Such a mystery as you have set up. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground.
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