She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse.
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