His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. ‘Shocked you, have I? We weren’t mealy-mouthed in my day, my boy. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Voting wouldn’t do no ‘arm to ‘er. . Wait a second. " "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily.
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