The life of a young girl is set about with prowling pitfalls. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. " Her ear caught much of the lesson, and many things she stored away; but often what she heard was sound without sense. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. And I've made up my mind that a husband ought to believe only half that he hears, and nothing that he sees.
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