Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. “We’ll go together. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. I saw someone in there whom I have always hoped that I should never meet again. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. ’ Gerald was relieved to find the girl did not attempt to run away, but meekly allowed him to usher her into the spacious and comfortable library which was his habitual haunt when at home. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was.
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