In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. The one through which she had come and Gosse had entered behind her. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. But the five per cent. ’ Then she frowned. 4 \"No thanks.
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