6. ” Mrs. I think over all sorts of things. He gave glimpses of possibilities. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. You tell me he didn't like the stuff. And also I have this Prudence. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. “I’d sooner condemn you to Hell. She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders.
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