His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. He was all alone, like herself. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent.
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