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150 “Homely. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. How the devil did you break a picture?’ ‘Don’t be obtuse, Hilary. Fiercely defensive, as usual. I believed that our marriage was genuine. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory.
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