He would stare at her intensely when he was certain his parents were not looking in his direction. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. ” “I care as a man cares only once in his life,” he answered promptly. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning.
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