He gently took the roses from her and laid them on the pillow. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more. “I’ve got bad faults. Daughters were not like sons. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. “How has the world taken it?” he asked.
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