All his dreams shattered in an instant. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. Only an undermaid I was then. go. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter. . "I can't see him.
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