How it will be with us, how end, He who, after all is said and done, _did_ construct us, knows now.
And we will know some day, when life is burned out in us.
"Hours, days of bitter revolt come--the old madness for you, the old recklessness of desire, the savage impatience with life, assail me still.

Because, Ailsa, I would--I _could_ have made you a--well, an _interesting_ husband, anyway.

You were fashioned to be the divinest wife and.

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