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We are never happier than when we are quite alone together, and yet there are few days that we find it possible to be so; but then we have so much to chat about, and to read and to write, that it always seems to us that the day has taken wings to itself, and we long for an hour to devote to our absent friends. It seems so strange that time should slip away thus — for, after all, what have I to do?
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