Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. Wood. You do not know him. Her moods were many and always striking. If he was asleep, then she much regretted that she must wake him up.
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