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Any woman sinking her shaft deep enough, will at last reach a fathomless spring of sensibility in thy breast, Crimsworth." I felt the blood stir about my heart and rise warm to my cheek. "Some women might, monsieur." "Is Mdlle. Reuter of the number?
Hello, Crimsworth! where are your thoughts tending? You leave the recollection of Hunsden as a bee would a rock, as a bird a desert; and your aspirations spread eager wings towards a land of visions where, now in advancing daylight in X daylight you dare to dream of congeniality, repose, union. Those three you will never meet in this world; they are angels.
But Hunsden comes; I hear his step, and there he is, bending through the lattice, from which he has thrust away the woodbine with unsparing hand, disturbing two bees and a butterfly. "Crimsworth! I say, Crimsworth! take that pen out of his hand, mistress, and make him lift up his head. "Well, Hunsden? I hear you "
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