"Well," she said, in reply, "I may have done Jack an injustice. D'ye hear. He’s nice. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion.
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