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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"Summer"


Since the fanciful vision of the future that had flitted through her
imagination at their first meeting she had hardly ever thought of his
marrying her. She had not had to put the thought from her mind; it had
not been there. If ever she looked ahead she felt instinctively that the
gulf between them was too deep, and that the bridge their passion had
flung across it was as insubstantial as a rainbow. But she seldom
looked ahead; each day was so rich that it absorbed her.... Now her first
feeling was that everything would be different, and that she herself
would be a different being to Harney. Instead of remaining separate and
absolute, she would be compared with other people, and unknown things
would be expected of her. She was too proud to be afraid, but the
freedom of her spirit drooped....
Harney had not fixed any date for his return; he had said he would have
to look about first, and settle things. He had promised to write as soon
as there was anything definite to say, and had left her his address, and
asked her to write also.


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