These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. “I see the difficulty. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour.
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