” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. I may want you. “It’s very good,” she said. “What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. Hastening to the church, he entered it by the very door near which his first crime had been committed. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping.
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