She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. " "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere.
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