Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Lucy went hunting on a Thursday night. 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. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell. I am your first, of course you feel strongly. He sat down.
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