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Summer | Edith Wharton | |
Chapter VI |
Page 8 of 8 |
"I ain't--I ain't ashamed. They're my people, and I ain't ashamed of them," she sobbed. "My dear..." he murmured, putting his arm about her; and she leaned against him and wept out her pain. It was too late to go around to Hamblin, and all the stars were out in a clear sky when they reached the North Dormer valley and drove up to the red house. |
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Summer Edith Wharton |
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