“Don’t!” she begged. ” “Some people should not be allowed to be foster parents. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. “I am getting plain,” she said, with a little shudder. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. ” “But it changes things.
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