A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test. She confronted him with his own double-standard. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. ‘Why, that’s it. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. He must have married when he was quite a young man. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. “No.
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