She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. ‘She would not tell me. ” “How would you know I’m not ready? I’m older than you, remember? Sometimes you act so worldly, as if you’d seen it all. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot.
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