She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. "If any one's to blame, it's me. Diable. It comes to this—am I to be trusted to take care of myself, or am I not?” “To judge from this proposal of yours, I should say not. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. . " "Prolonging the misery. In the afternoon my brain and fingers leap to their work because you have been with me. .
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