I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. “Wow. "Oh! you men! you men! Once get a thing into your head, and nothing will beat it out. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. Speaking of mean, you watch out for Kate Bitchster.
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