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” Anna sprang up. She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. But he knew. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. She had told Emile. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. The reward is mine.
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