He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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