He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. “Don’t!” she begged. But after a time I learned the ways of the parrakeets, and they would come down to me like doves in the stories. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. But those days are over—quite over.
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