Between her and the fair, far prospect of freedom and self-development manoeuvred Mr. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. “Not a bit of it. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster.
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