Husband of mine, I think we have rather overrated the emotional capacity of those—those dears. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned.
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