“Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. The door opened. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. I had rather have trouble and hardship like that than be taken care of by others. The audience was made up of parents, teachers, and a few other curious folks from town, all sitting hushed in anticipatory silence as the school orchestra assembled onstage. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. “All day.
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