Before she put on her sun-helmet, she paused before the mirror. Take your pick, Mrs. Annabel thought, and thought again. “I am happy. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. I will remember them, Sebastian, along with my mother and father, and all the others I came to love and lose. No! I do not even know that he cares for me.
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