She hated the manor. " "Silly love stories?" "No; love wasn't the theme. Jonathan had to feel his way. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. "Where did you pick it up?" "I believe I told you; at Yale.
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