It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. I am bothered. " "How?" "Listen to me, Thames. There was a loose button on that coat, and I want to sew it on. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her.
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