A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. I’ve never had these crying fits before. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts. “My parents left for Vail on a plane this morning. It’s these damned novels. Never was there another girl like this one. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright.
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