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. . Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. Or perhaps my father once. ’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly. " "You don't say so!" exclaimed Shotbolt. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. "Will you write," asked the doctor, "and tell me how you are getting along?" "Oh, yes!" "The last advice I can give you is this: excite his imagination; get him started with his writing. "Rot, weren't they?" "No.
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