‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you. The blood will rest on your head. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. She thought that women were not made for the struggle and turmoil of life— their place was the little world, the home; that their power lay not in votes but in influence over men and in making the minds of their children fine and splendid. “You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. When she came to school on Friday, she almost tripped twice going up the stairs. She was frightfully hungry. On the present occasion, in anticipation of Mr.
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