“No, I’m fine. His favorite newspaper was the Times, which he began at breakfast in the morning often with manifest irritation, and carried off to finish in the train, leaving no other paper at home. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. Lucy thought he was the most handsome man in the entire world. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky.
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