” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. But understand me thoroughly: I am offering you this job because my friend wants to help you. ” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care. But it’s as you say. ” He sat like a man turned to stone. Forgive me. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness.
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