Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. But it was hopelessly hard to put. “I love you, you know. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. It hardly served his interests.
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