. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. “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. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness. .
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