he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same
They were too much absorbed in their mutual joy to suffer embarrassment
Too stupefied to be curious myself, I fastened my door and glanced round for the bed
It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him.
I “never told my love” vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have guessed I was over head and ears:
