She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. He drove to his apartment, a second floor studio he 120 was renting above a bakery. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood.
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