She had lost it. "I forbid you to do that. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father.
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