He uttered a short laugh. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. After that night she made it a habit. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers.
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