In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. But they did what they could for her. I met a Hindu a few weeks ago who was a Harvard man. Come and have lunch with me.
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