“I remember it very well indeed. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. ’ ‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively. The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. I said to myself, ‘this will come. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women.
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