Good riddance. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. He did not stagger in the least. He smiled inwardly. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream.
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