Edith Wharton

“She was very near hating him now; yet the sound of his voice, the way the light fell on his thin, dark hair, the way he sat and moved and wore his clothes—she was conscious that even these trivial things were inwoven with her deepest life.”


Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
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The House of Mirth The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
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