“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. “It’s bound to be all right,” she said. “I mean REALLY independent. Jonathan nodded assent. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. And, lastly, there's Mr.
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