“My mom is making duck. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. He went to Harvard instead. ’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips.
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