She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. There was hope for me then. In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots. Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. Lucy saw that perhaps she had been attracted to Martin all along. For a time she promenaded the room. She hated living like that.
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