He’s waiting. " "Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. ’ ‘But, no,’ She dimpled. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being. I’m convinced that much of Russell’s investigations are on wrong lines, unsound lines.
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