Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. I don’t want you to be sad. Then they appear among the lower things”—she made meticulous gestures to figure the scale of life; she seemed to be holding up specimens, and peering through her glasses at them —“among crustaceans and things, just as little creatures, ever so inferior to the females. ‘Gérard, you are a great fool. Thus, you see, I've never hesitated and never shall hesitate to expose my life where anything is to be gained.
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