She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. But, holy smoke!—the Yale spirit in…. " "Depend upon it, Sir. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home.
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