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 to love, I have never loved any one. My vocation is 'to roam along, the world's tired denizen, with none who bless me, none whom I can bless.

The girls looked at her with astonishment, and Janet, laying hold of her hand, said, "Do not talk so, it is not right, I beg your pardon, perhaps you are not speaking seriously. Nobody can exist unless they have somebody to love, and who loves them in return."

"True," said Rachel, "it is not existence, it is a myth.

A dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.

"But why not employ them?" said Rose, who was not learned in Byron, "you have a home."

"Such as it is."

"And relations."

"Such as they are. However, I did not come here to talk poetry and discontent,