The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. I can’t just go up to Josh and ask him out, even though I fantasize about doing just that all the time. But now that this bar is removed, I trust I may, without impropriety, urge it. But at the word “home” she turned again. He was—a millionaire. I dared not sing, I dared not laugh, except when you went away. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. Jonathan had not deceived him.
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