” She stared before her, trying to keep back a rush of tears. He was the true optimist; and that he should proceed, serenely unconscious of reefs and storms, she accepted the double buffets. She saw a pole-chair; that would be this Mr. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. “I want to ask you a question,” she said abruptly. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled.
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