If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. Gag him," he added, pushing Thames rudely toward Quilt Arnold, "and convey him to the boat. The Yale spirit! Ah Cum smiled whimsically. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Never.
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