Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. “With me I believe that it is more. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. In some cases they were ground almost to powder; in others, driven deeply into the earth, as if discharged from a piece of ordnance. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean.
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