But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. All right, I’m coming. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free.
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