The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. "I must tell you," she was saying. " "Not quite," replied the manager. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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