Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. Prudence.
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