Do
you know, when you have told me to think of you, I have been feeling
ashamed of thinking of you so much, of thinking of only you--which is
too much, perhaps. Shall I tell you? It seems to me, to myself, that
no man was ever before to any woman what you are to me--the fullness
must be in proportion, you know, to the vacancy...and only I know what
was behind--the long wilderness without the blossoming rose...and the
capacity for happiness, ...
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