He said simply that he wanted her to live at home. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. White. "I'll tell you," answered Jonathan, sternly. I know you.
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