She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. ” He was strangely silent. “If you cannot listen to me now it must remain undelivered. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. The fact itself is regrettable enough—regrettable, I fear, is quite an inadequate word.
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