His vicious abusiveness vanished. I believe I have always been in love with you. It’s a beautiful plant, but a tender one. Find that boy. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. Yes, very well. . You have neither reason nor logic. But that is men all over. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child.
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