” He said. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. Maggot, drawing up her fine figure to its full height; "because I condescend to live with you, am I never to look at another man,— especially at one so much to my taste as this? Don't think it!" "You had better retire, Madam," said the woollen-draper, sharply, "if you can't conduct yourself with more propriety.
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