America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. " He departed, musing. It’s just that I want to say.
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