She
seemed able to divide herself into two. One person followed the argument--and
he's putting it very well, she thought; while the other, for it was a fine
afternoon, and she had wanted to go to Kew, walked down a green glade and
stopped in front of a flowering tree. Is it a magnolia? she asked herself, or
are they already over? Magnolias, she remembered, have no leaves, but masses of
white blossom. . . . She drew a line on the blotting-paper.
The Years
(167)
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