She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. ” “Yeah, I think she hates you, hon. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. " Ruth did so, but without any particular fervour.
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