“I will take a carriage,” she said, “and fetch my things. She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. You know the sort of thing. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. She colored faintly. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen.
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