She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. After feasting his eye upon this superb panorama, he was about to return, when he ascertained from a farmer that his nearest road to Willesden would be down a lane a little further on, to the right. The response of her body was enough that she lazily opened her eyes.
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