I'm no mollycoddle. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. ’ She flounced back to stare out of the window again. But his grief was of short duration. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. He would see this sister. Dinner consisted of three courses. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. But, holy smoke!—the Yale spirit in….
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