I might as well be at Morningside Park. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. It’s a world of dirt and skin diseases and parasites. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true.
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