She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. “A number of beautiful things are not intense. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. " "Would you like to have me come in and talk?" How tender that sounded!—talk! "If you want to. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. Manning,” she said, “I HAVE a confession to make.
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