All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. " He laughed and pushed back his chair. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. I am a single man, and——” “Thank you,” she interrupted. S. The applause was uproarious at the end of the concert. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance.
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