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150.

Sunday Afternoon.
July 13, 1919.

My Dear ---

What do I care whether
my lover merely thinks
he loves me, and suggests
that he may "exhibit at the
crucial moment (of saying "I will")
a certain maidenly hesitancy
so to speak, and the fatal words
may be postponed" --- I am
quoting you exactly --- what
care I? Like the proverbial
wife with the black eye, the
more my husband beats me
the more I love him. That

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