She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience.
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