She began to weep in long, aching sobs. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. ” He resumed, after a mouthful: “Here is a girl of sixteen or seventeen, seventeen and a half to be exact, running about, as one might say, in London. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. Manning think?” said her aunt.
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