At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. ’ Then she jammed her hat on her head all anyhow and ran from the room. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. “We do not want the men,” said Miss Miniver; “we do not want them, with their sneers and loud laughter. If you had lived twenty years ago you would have been called a Young Person, and it would have been your chief duty in life not to know, never to have heard of, and never to understand.
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