She walked across to this apartment and, opening the door a little wider, discovered a press section of the movement at work. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck.
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