” “It is over for now,” he answered, “but I cannot bear to think that you are subject to this sort of thing. Expiation. ” “You like me?” “Yes. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly.
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