She could not analyse what was stirring in her: the thought of losing the doll, the dog, and the cat. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks. Its very calmness was frightful. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. “You would believe that life is kindled by the passions alone.
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