He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. “My dear Anna,” he answered. Mom, this is Lucy Albert from school. Manning,” she began. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace.
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