The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. I think that nearly every manager in London has made me an offer. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. She turned there and beckoned. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am going to see you. We got your message, but you never stay out this late.
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