Here he is, alone, playing games with her name. "a-n-n-a" he says. His fantasy seems to be moving away from the real, flesh-and-blood girl, and becoming focused on her name.
Tallow was a poor man's candle. It didn't last long, and it smelled. Along with the cold embers, this is a clue that our man hasn't got much by way of material resources. Perhaps he doesn't have much to offer. Maybe she's really way out of his league.
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