" Something in the child's voice, something in her manner, warned the spinster that her well-meaning inquisitiveness had received a set-back and that it would be dangerous to press it forward again. " When the doctor entered the bedroom and looked into the faces of the culprits, he laughed brokenly. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. ‘Come, cry a truce. I asked several shopkeepers the same question: ‘Do you know the blue-eyed maid with the curly brown hair? She has a mother who is fair with the same eyes. I—well, I lost my temper. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. She moaned as he buried himself completely to the hilt. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them.
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