"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself. Her eyebrows, pulled down by the stress of thought, now resumed their normal arches; and pleased with her discovery, she smiled. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity.
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