“I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. It now occurred to him that she had always been fully dressed. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. Then suddenly, in front of all those windows, he folded her in his arms and pressed her to him, and kissed her unresisting face. It's always hard work for a rich man's son to stand alone. ’ He sighed. The Bed Room 400 XIX.
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