The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. "Your ladyship has never been well since you married Sir Cecil," rejoined Mrs. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. And I want you for myself—for my wife. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad.
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