" "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully. “It is a hateful story. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. One keeps rules in order to be one’s self. “Limp,” he answered. ’ ‘I do not marry a man who makes me a threat like this,’ she flashed.
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