She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. Some automaton within her produced in a quite unfamiliar voice the remark, “They’re playing football. It was too good to be true. “I doubted my luck, at least. ‘You are too shrewd for me, ma’am. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience.
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