At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. " "Your father will never oppose your happiness, my dear, I'm sure," said Mrs. Wood. " "Wear that to-night, then. This service rendered, without waiting for any farther order, she withdrew. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. “Uh, can you get me a soda or something?” She said, shielding her exposed teeth with her hand. ” “Not now. .
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