and Mrs. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. Hill’s first night back amongst us, too. Still, I'm glad she didn't accept my invitation to join us. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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