He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew. " "That is your fault, none of mine. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. He had a wild impulse to shout. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage.
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