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Page 10
and her soft brown hair mussed, she looked like a disheveled mouse. Under more normal conditions the sparkle of her big brown eyes and the upward curve of her pretty mouth made her piquantly attractive.
In fact, Linda was crying because she was young. She was crying because she had nothing to cry about. At the moment, she was bored to death. Life stretched ahead of her as a dull grey blank. The money and the love only wrapped her in a big, soft insulating cocoon that nothing could pierce. Even her wealthy and beloved friends had unhappy love affairs or troubles at home. She had not even pain or discomfort to interest her.
Auntie Evelyn and Uncle Abe were too perfect, she thought, sobbing harder. They adored her; they were warm and interested, but they did not smother her. They let her go when she wanted freedom and received her back with delight and affection when she was ready. "They even trust me," she moaned pitifully to herselfknowing that trust had held her back from the drugs and drink that were anodyne to the rich and the bored.
At last the utter ridiculousness of self-pity for such a reason checked the tears. With a little suddering gasp, Linda lifted her face from the dampened pillows of the elegant sofa and sat upright. Her face was so flushed that the almost looked as if the rose damask of the sofa had bled into her cheeks.

 
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