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¡°You laugh,¡± he said, smiling in response. ¡°But, I say,¡± he added with incredible simplicity, ¡°don¡¯t think I¡¯m quite as bad as I seem. I¡¯m really awfully observant, you¡¯ll see that. Why shouldn¡¯t I try? It might come to something. . . . But I dare say you¡¯re right. Of course I know nothing of real life; that¡¯s what Natasha tells me; and indeed everyone says so; I should be a queer sort of writer. You may laugh, you may laugh; you¡¯ll set me right; you¡¯ll be doing it for her sake, and you love her. I tell you the truth. I¡¯m not good enough for her; I feel that; it¡¯s a great grief to me, and I don¡¯t know why she¡¯s so fond of me. But I feel I¡¯d give my life for her. I¡¯ve really never been afraid of anything before, but at this moment I feel frightened. What is it we¡¯re doing? Heavens, is it possible that when a man¡¯s absolutely set upon his duty he shouldn¡¯t have the brains and the courage to do it? You must help us, anyway; you¡¯re our friend. You¡¯re the only friend left us. For what can I do alone! Forgive me for reckoning on you like this. I think of you as such a noble man, and far superior to me. But I shall improve, believe me, and be worthy of you both.¡±
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