"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. He has had brain fever since, and, as you say, I am more like what you were then than you yourself are now. “All right, Dunster,” he said. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. She tried not to blush. She put back her hood in a determined way. The first set of occupations seemed to her to be altogether too domestic and restricted; for the latter she was dreadfully handicapped by her want of experience.
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