We’ll have some buttered toast. " Glad to make peace on any terms, Mr. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. . Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world.
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