“But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. ” She became aware of her aunt, through the panes of the greenhouse, advancing with an air of serene unconsciousness from among the raspberry canes. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. She wondered occasionally why his mind needed so much distraction.
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