She seemed to be endowed with superhuman strength. Get on with it, then. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. In military circles, highly exaggerated tales of Major Alderley’s derring-do were bruited from lip to lip and passed on to raw recruits to strengthen morale. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. ” “It still needs to be tightened up, but. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales. Besides, your remark is not in the least complimentary.
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