I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. . " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. . It’s—it’s a social difference. ” She came closer. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me.
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