A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. \" He took his milk and cookies to bed. ” He said. "No matter how much I tell of myself, I shall always keep something back. I hate what I am. I must know what new thing has come between us that she should treat me as a lover one day and a monster the next.
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