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Every line, every word was — in the hackneyed metaphor which their dear writer, were she here, would forbid — a dagger to my heart. To know that Marianne was in town was — in the same language — a thunderbolt. — Thunderbolts and daggers! — what a reproof would she have given me! — her taste, her opinions — I believe they are better known to me than my own, — and I am sure they are dearer.
