She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. “I mean it. “Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt. I am a little afraid. ” “Right,” he answered.
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