The man was dangerous. “Perhaps one talks nonsense about a woman’s instinct,” she said. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. Sheppard, with a faint smile and a doubtful shake of the head, as Wood drew her to a seat beside him, "for I've had my full share of misery. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension.
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