Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. ” “Would you mind telling me,” Anna asked, “how long I knew you in Paris?” He looked at her sideways. Come along home, Ruth. “You know nothing about the stage.
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