The twenty pounds burned with avidity. “In fact, yes, I do. But that still left the forty pounds!. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. Supper was over. gutenberg. Then, after Capes had been through her work and had gone on, it came to her that the fabric of this life of hers was doomed to almost immediate collapse; that in a little while these studies would cease, and perhaps she would never set eyes on him again. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities.
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