‘On the contrary,’ Gerald argued, frowning. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. Blood, they say, won't come out. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava.
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