“I can talk to you and you to me without a scrap of effort,” said Capes; “that’s the essence of it. “I am afraid,” she answered, “that one’s friends can judge only of the externals, and the things which matter, the things inside are realized only by oneself— stop. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. He gripped the window-sill behind him. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. I—listen.
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