‘Do not be imbecile. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. “Rummy lot we are!” said Roddy. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated.
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