‘I have only borrowed it. Oh God! my limbs fail me. Queer world. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. ‘You! Tell this fool who is the keeper here to come to me at once. "I can't say I do," replied Wood. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror.
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