This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. But it is my fault. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. A man came out, and walking recklessly, almost cannoned into Ennison. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots. “If you must go on with it,” said Hetty, “now’s your time. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up.
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