Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter.
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