She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. “They might do you good,” she remarked. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. " "Follow me, then," cried Thames, drawing his sword, and springing through the window. uh. Spurling.
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