put it in." "You'll spoil it!" "No, I won't spoil it! Well, and your wife?" said the baroness suddenly, interrupting Vronsky's conversation with his comrade. "We've been marrying you here. Have you brought your wife?" "No, baroness. I was born a Bohemian, and a Bohemian I shall die." "So much the better, so much the better. Shake hands on it." And the baroness, detaining Vronsky, began telling him, with many jokes, about her last new plans of life, asking his advice. "He persists in refusing to give me a divorce! Well, what am I to do?" (He was her husband.) "Now I want to begin a suit against him. What do you advise? Kamerovsky, look after the coffee; it's boiling over. You see, I'm engrossed with business! I want a lawsuit, because I must have my property. Do you understand the folly of it, that on the pretext of my being unfaithful to him," she said contemptuously, "he wants to get the benefit of my fortune." Vronsky heard with pleasure this light-hearted prattle of a pretty woman, agreed with her, gave her half-joking counsel, andIf only other ads were so literary. . .
Can There Be a Love That Does Not Make Demands On Its Object?
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