“You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. “My Mom makes more money than my Dad, a lot more. She left them and went back to Sebastian, never uttering a word about her visit. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn.
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