Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. “Oh, there’s no doubt of it! Since the girls of the eighties broke bounds and sailed away on bicycles—my young days go back to the very beginnings of that —it’s been one triumphant relaxation. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous.
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