“Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept.
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