He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it. You're an angel of goodness.
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