“I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. E. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober.
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