She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. From the point of view of most things in the world of employment which a woman can do reasonably well and earn a living by, you’re unripe and half-educated. Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top. Practically all. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. His name is carved upon a beam up stairs. But that title he would not endure. " "I'm a queer girl," she replied with a smile. He'll mend, I hope.
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