I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. She described the Goopes and the Fabians to him, and gave him a sketch of her landlady; and he talked in the most liberal and entertaining way of a modern young woman’s outlook. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. "No, I won't leave go!" screamed Mrs. 1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License. To make sure work of it, I'll superintend the job myself. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible.
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