. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. I want to love him. ’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers.
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