Your life is like a funeral March. As Gosse pushed her around it, she felt his hold about her of necessity loosen slightly. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. But something instinctive prevented that, and with the finest resolve not to be “silly” and prudish she found that whenever he became at all bold in this matter she became severely scientific and impersonal, almost entomological indeed, in her method; she killed every remark as he made it and pinned it out for examination. There was something in Jonathan's manner, as he issued this command, that struck the man as singular, and he afterwards recalled it.
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