She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood. Good words, without deeds, are rushes and reeds. She rolled to one side. I miss them so. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. In the first place, Mrs. Earles?” he inquired.
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