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Until that was done a certain experience of life assured him that a girl is a locked coldness against a man’s approach. " "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand. "We went through your belongings. Suppose he stopped all her allowance, made it imperative that she should either stay ineffectually resentful at home or earn a living for herself at once. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. And he liked her.
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