On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “Think of what Lady Palsworthy will say! Think of what”—So-and-so —“will say! What are we to tell people? “Besides, what am I to tell your father?” At first it had not been at all clear to Ann Veronica that she would refuse to return home; she had had some dream of a capitulation that should leave her an enlarged and defined freedom, but as her aunt put this aspect and that of her flight to her, as she wandered illogically and inconsistently from one urgent consideration to another, as she mingled assurances and aspects and emotions, it became clearer and clearer to the girl that there could be little or no change in the position of things if she returned. Jack's former attempt to pass up the chimney, it may be remembered, was obstructed by an iron bar. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful. In that sense, my strategy worked. "Then take her back," said the manager.
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