“You will go and see her,” he begged. About her, as she had gone day by day to and from the Tredgold College, she had seen and not seen many an incidental aspect of those sides of life about which girls are expected to know nothing, aspects that were extraordinarily relevant to her own position and outlook on the world, and yet by convention ineffably remote. Then he took me out to Monteaux, on a motor. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. The tables were then cleared. She felt sickeningly empty.
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