“I must read him when I come out. ” “Shirts?” “Shirts at one—and—something a dozen. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. ” “Isn’t it. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving.
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