What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. " "Quite the contrary," rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing good-humouredly. Jests are not for seasons like this. ’ The lady opened her eyes very wide indeed.
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