But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. “Can you take any from me?” “No, I won’t do that. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography.
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