Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. Jackson, to the swig. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes.
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