One called her very distinctly “My dear!” Two secretarial posts did indeed seem to offer themselves in which, at least, there was no specific exclusion of womanhood; one was under a Radical Member of Parliament, and the other under a Harley Street doctor, and both men declined her proffered services with the utmost civility and admiration and terror. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. Mrs. Kneebone took his leave. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred.
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