She despises me, I suppose. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. Under the somewhat trying incandescent light her cheeks pleaded guilty to a recent use of the powder puff.
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