Her moods were many and always striking. "I have not many days,—perhaps, not many hours to live. Understand once and for all that that answer is final. Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other. I don’t know anyone. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not.
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