’ ‘Oh, yes I do,’ Martha said, getting up off the bed. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. . Earles, but it is a good one. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life.
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