We can be friends again. Her prevailing effect was one of quiet and complete assurance, as though she knew all about everything, and was only restrained by her instinctive delicacy from telling what she knew. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. And also she didn’t like them. Afraid there'll be a love-affair. ” “For example?” “Your dyed hair. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me.
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