She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. ” “And why shouldn’t you?” “I felt that sort of thing couldn’t go on. Ed. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. O'Higgins returned to town and made a night of it, nothing very wild, nothing very desperate. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Besides, you've secrets which must not be disclosed.
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