“Are you going to the Vorsack’s for dinner tonight?” “Yes, I think I’ll stop by. ‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again.
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