The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. Schoolgirl. ‘It is pretty. A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She turned her eyes to him again, and saw her late friend and pleasant and trusted companion, who had seen fit suddenly to change into a lover, babbling interesting inacceptable things. I hate what I am. And also she didn’t like them. .
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