” She said. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. “Have you ever seen Annabel with him?” she asked. He'll mend, I hope. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk.
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