"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. " "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. —Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. Before she put on her sun-helmet, she paused before the mirror. “Odd little room,” said Ann Veronica, dimly apprehending that obtrusive sofa. In a sense I don’t care.
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