She had but to choose. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. Mr. Whatever you need to do, it is your business. “I believe it is. He regarded that perennial miracle of pinning with wrathful eyes. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. “There is one thing I must concentrate on at the moment,” she told herself, “and that is how to pay my next week’s bill to Mrs. ” He was intrigued. “I have been very selfish,” she declared.
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