The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. "Spring!—I never knew any. "In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. She knew now that he never would.
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