"Oh, nothing—nothing," returned Mrs. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. “I want to be your friend,” he said.
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