Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. Our quarrel's quite over. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. So he bring me to see this Suzanne, who were staying at an inn nearby. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror.
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