Mrs. ” Lucy yanked him into the hidden door to Room 109, a door to the backstage that looked like the entrance to a broom closet. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. “You may go on with that work,” he said, “so long as you keep in harmony with things at home.
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