‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. It does not matter to him either way. If ever he requires my services, he shall find I'm not ungrateful. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her.
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