She was with these movements—akin to them, she felt it at times intensely—and yet something eluded her. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home.
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