She taught me how to crochet and cross stitch. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. ‘So now we come to it. Then for a time she forgot the Fadden affair altogether. She held out both her hands. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him. Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions.
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