She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. ” Her answer was terse. You know I am in love with you. "Why you wouldn't stand in the way of his good fortune surely? I'll be a second father to him, I tell you.
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