Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. Nor can we. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head.
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