” Part 2 Capes thought. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience.
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