“I must explain to her. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. This I know, for the Valades have taught me so, and the nuns also. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. He drew out the check and the editorial letter.
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