The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Something in his tone pinched her heart. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. Manning questioned whether when they were bad they were really beautiful or when they were beautiful bad. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter.
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