In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. “You poor little girl!” he cried. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze.
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