‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said.
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