So that as she saw him she remarked to herself very faintly but definitely, “Oh, golly!” and set up a campaign of avoidance that Mr. They WERE weird. " And muttering some remarks, which we do not care to repeat, reflecting upon the consistency of the sex, he was preparing once more to depart, when Mrs. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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