Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. " "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. She had not anticipated such a response from her classmates, but knew to be drawing them with her self-consciousness as if they were bees to pollen. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being.
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