‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.
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