The latch had not fully caught. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. E. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. ” She replied, smiling awkwardly. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. By the will of Mr. These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. “Of course I will,” he answered. . .
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