"He called me a wanton, Hoddy. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. Once inside, he looked around, worried that his parents would suddenly cancel their trip and return home. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. That added to his puzzle. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. " And, having partaken of a hasty breakfast, he set out. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise.
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