"I'm glad you're better," he said. His mouth sounded like it was almost in my hair, just above my my ear. "When I saw you fall..." "You thought, 'Wow, she's a loser."

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And yet I love him. I love him so much and so dearly, that when I sometimes think my life may be but a weary one, I am proud of it and glad of it. I am proud and glad to suffer something for him, even though it is of no service to him, and he will never know of it or care for it.

— Charles Dickens