“You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ” The shock of their intellectual attitude was over, usage robbed it of the first quaint effect of deliberate unreason. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his.
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