“And you brought her a man, I presume. I will be up with my wife and daughter after lunch. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. Mere formality. I felt as though I had bandaged eyes. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. And then she would find work.
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