She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. The moment she entered the room and he rose, she felt that she was immediately consigned to the circle of strangers; and it emptied her heart of its joy and filled it with diffidence. " "You paint yourself worse than you are, dear Mrs. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head. " "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. All that I regret are the wasted years, and I am not sure that I regret them. The sing-song girls in Hong-Kong are far handsomer.
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