“You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. " Blueskin, meanwhile, having drained and replenished his glass, commenced chaunting a snatch of a ballad:— Once on a time, as I've heard tell. 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. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. " "And I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too late," observed the Master.
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