Clientèle was of the most transitory character. “Dear John,” she whispered. ’ Melusine fought down the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and drew a steadying breath. "No, no," rejoined Thames; "fly—or I will not answer for your safety. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world. Whatever she does is minimized. Wood, furiously.
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