Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. ” He said while grabbing her hands and 229 jerking her to her feet like a puppet, callously. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. Their conversation became stilted. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder. C. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough.
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