His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. ’ ‘Oh, is he?’ Gerald said grimly. "He never let me keep a dog or a cat about the house. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight.
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