” “Too much character, and too little sentiment,” he answered. ” Miss Miniver followed with an expression of perplexity, her mouth shaped to futile expositions. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. But did you ever hear of a djinn in a blue-serge coat? Stitched in!" Something like this was always rushing into his throat; and he had to sink his nails into his palms to stop his mouth. During her school days, especially her earlier school days, the world had been very explicit with her, telling her what to do, what not to do, giving her lessons to learn and games to play and interests of the most suitable and various kinds. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. " "Pray do so, Madam," retorted Mrs. “Call me Annabel. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. ” Or someone, she thought with disgust. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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