“And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. His fears supplied him with unwonted vigour.
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