“Our ways happened to lie together. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation.
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