Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. "What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. \"Good morning, Lucy\". But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. ’ ‘Then you shall no longer do so. " "Oh!" exclaimed the widow, covering her face with her hands. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings.
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