"I'm prudence personified. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. “Michelle, I don’t ever want to hear you mention the subject you mentioned at dinner again. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. Where's the dining room? And, say, can I have some eggs? This jam-tea breakfast gets my goat. “She can’t. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self.
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