‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me. She could feel her face turning beet red. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. “You must remember,” she said, “that you yourself are responsible for your altered looks.
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