There was—a service. “You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. . “And you?” “Same thing. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. Even that he was an interfering person, if he walked through that door this moment, she would fling herself at him and weep all over his chest. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. It doesn’t seem to matter. You say you need a man.
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