I always thought Mrs. ‘I know her, ma’am, but I know next to nothing of her story. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. I'll have my man Wu over here as soon as I can get in touch with him. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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