Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. “Oh, Michelle, I’m such a miserable fool. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened.
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