It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. Somehow logic could not explain her.
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