“Please stop fighting me. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. "Leave the room instantly, sirrah!" rejoined the lady, bouncing up, and giving him a slap on the cheek that made his eyes flash fire. ” She said, searching for her brassiere under his bed.
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