The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. ’ ‘Why must you?’ asked Gerald calmly. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity.
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