She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. “I want two words—with Miss Pellissier alone,” Hill pleaded. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. . “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. “I want to speak to you about a little thing, Vee,” said Mr. Montague Hill. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs.
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