The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. ” “Why not?” she asked quietly. When she told him that the natives called her The Dawn Pearl, his delight was unbounded. But, perhaps Mr. E. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment.
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