His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. " He laughed and followed her into the hotel. Very well, then. Her prevailing effect was one of quiet and complete assurance, as though she knew all about everything, and was only restrained by her instinctive delicacy from telling what she knew.
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