Daughters were not like sons. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty. Sheppard had been interred. . Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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