“For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. Presently he resumed: “I believe I must be in love. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason.
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