A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. Loans will just ruin my life because I need so many of them. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. It was a grand life. She was watching him intently. “So tell me what happened, all of it! I saw roses!” Shari exclaimed. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. She did not bother with the backpack despite its due tomorrow status.
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