. “Lucy. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be.
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