” “You have not seen the evening paper?” “No. You're an angel of goodness. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. Kneebone in a conciliatory tone. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. 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. It’s not a bit of good pretending there’s any Higher Truth or wonderful principle in this business.
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