She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. Mr. Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. And Suzanne, even that she has behaved to me not at all like a mother, would also not have said. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father.
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