Wood trembled. Let us stay the night here. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. Then a ride to London on horseback. Skiing trip. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. . I wish nothing at all from them.
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