“Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. But come, sir. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. She thought of her aunt and that purse that was dropped on the table, and of many troublesome and ill-requited kindnesses; she thought of the help of the Widgetts, of Teddy’s admiration; she thought, with a new-born charity, of her father, of Manning’s conscientious unselfishness, of Miss Miniver’s devotion. Then she had a baby and became as old as any really grown-up person, or older, and very dull.
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