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Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. They walked in silence. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel.
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