But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “I’ll be here at one in the morning. ” “It ought to make one happy. I will make your grandfather extend to you his protection, and his support. Tickle the ears of their reverences with any idle nonsense you please: but tell them nothing you care to have repeated. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me.
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