She still kicked herself for it. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. I have sinned deeply; but I have been sorely tried. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Drawing the pay of life and then not living. Wagner had just been in love when he wrote it all.
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