Mr. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. The kiss was powerfully moving. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. Mr.
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