Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself. " "To be sure! Nothing entertains me so much. “Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Wow. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. “It’s okay. “I shall send for a policeman,” Anna said, “directly my maid answers the bell— unless you choose to go before. " "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him.
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