"Mr. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood. “Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney. ” “Lady Ferringhall—alone?” Ennison exclaimed. I want to get away—to go to London. Manning, all this sort of thing is very well as sentiment, but does it correspond with the realities? Are women truly such angelic things and men so chivalrous? You men have, I know, meant to make us Queens and Goddesses, but in practice—well, look, for example, at the stream of girls one meets going to work of a morning, round-shouldered, cheap, and underfed! They aren’t queens, and no one is treating them as queens.
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