Senior year started with a whimper. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. "I am not to be deceived. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you. Surely our advice would have been worth having, at any rate.
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