“For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. He brought another small loaf, and a can with which he replenished the pitcher, recommending Jack to be careful, as he would get nothing further till morning. Do you think that it makes for happiness to force oneself into the extravagant belief that love is the only thing in the world worth having, and to sacrifice for it independence, self-respect, one’s whole scheme of life. Some days, his eyes were green. Perhaps I am still mad. ToC After running to some distance down Seacoal Lane, Jack stopped to give a last look at the vehicle which was bearing away the remains of his beloved and illfated mother.
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