From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. " "I see. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. ‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. ” She said. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly.
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