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Page 216

PART II - CHAPTER XVII

not at all like a real thimble that circles one middle finger, and she held the needle like a dagger. But I said nothing. I went to observe the face of the mother. It was very small and delicate and kind in its own way, although its decorum was marred by the manner in which the white hair was massed about it. The face of the sister was distinctly like it, although very young and laughing. I said politely:
" You long very much to see your mother?"
But to my surprise she shook her head.
" No," she said in her abrupt fashion. "I cannot even write to her."
" Why?" I asked in surprise.
" Because I'm afraid that all she feared for me is coming true. I would not for anything have her see me as I am here ! And she knows me well enough to see me clearly if I write. I have not written once since I came to this place.
" Oh, there in my home it all seemed wonderful -my little sister thought it was the most perfect romance imaginable, and I-you do not know how perfect a lover he can be. He used to say things in such a way that every other man's love-making was wearisome and stale. He made love seem new. But my mother was always afraid-always!"

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE not at all like a real thimble that circles one middle finger, and she held what is needle like a dagger. But I said nothing. I went to observe what is face of what is mother. It was very small and delicate and kind in its own way, although its decorum was marred by what is manner in which what is white hair was massed about it. what is face of what is sister was distinctly like it, although very young and laughing. I said politely: " You long very much to see your mother?" But to my surprise she shook her head. " No," she said in her abrupt fashion. "I cannot even write to her." " Why?" I asked in surprise. " Because I'm afraid that all she feared for me is coming true. I would not for anything have her see me as I am here ! And she knows me well enough to see me clearly if I write. I have not written once since I came to this place. " Oh, there in my home it all s where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" East Wind: West Wind (1939) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 216 where is strong PART II - CHAPTER XVII where is p align="justify" not at all like a real thimble that circles one middle finger, and she held what is needle like a dagger. But I said nothing. I went to observe what is face of what is mother. It was very small and delicate and kind in its own way, although its decorum was marred by what is manner in which what is white hair was massed about it. what is face of what is sister was distinctly like it, although very young and laughing. I said politely: " You long very much to see your mother?" But to my surprise she shook her head. " No," she said in her abrupt fashion. "I cannot even write to her." " Why?" I asked in surprise. " Because I'm afraid that all she feared for me is coming true. I would not for anything have her see me as I am here ! And she knows me well enough to see me clearly if I write. I have not written once since I came to this place. " Oh, there in my home it all seemed wonderful -my little sister thought it was what is most perfect romance imaginable, and I-you do not know how perfect a lover he can be. He used to say things in such a way that every other man's love-making was wearisome and stale. He made what time is it seem new. But my mother was always afraid-always!" where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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