" "Can't we break it off?" replied Mrs. White was scattered across the long stretches of pine trees and corn fields. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. She was, she guessed, close to the library. "Your audacity passes belief," cried the latter, as soon as his surprise would allow him utterance. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago.
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