She loved him. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. . I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. She walked through the walls. I drew out what I had saved and boarded the first ship out. Some of my schemes are already in hand.
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