She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. Gosse had to release his clamp on her mouth, for the awkwardness of the position made it impossible to negotiate the little stair. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. “I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. "I'm not worth it.
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