They flash to and fro, they thrill us with expectancy. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. Never! Perhaps some day, quite soon, she might regret that breakfast-room.
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