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She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. “Ugh!” she said. He was Julian five years younger, the spitting image. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. “This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. ’ Martha got up with a swish of her black habit. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited.
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