“Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. She felt like a dried-up old woman. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. ’ “Crude, I admit. ’ ‘How exciting.
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