“I am sure of it. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. But they were old enough to start remembering you as mother, and we cannot have that. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. ” The dinner came to an end at last, and the whiskered waiter presented his bill and evacuated the apartment and closed the door behind him with an almost ostentatious discretion.
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