Do you think it’s nothing to me to have my daughter running about London looking for odd jobs and disgracing herself?” “Sha’n’t get odd jobs,” said Ann Veronica, wiping her eyes. Nevertheless, she could not prevent a rising excitement as the dawn of the new life drew near to her—a thrilling of the nerves, a secret and delicious exaltation above the common circumstances of existence. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. Miss Mary to the life. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult.
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