She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. ‘You’d do the same. Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. I have always managed to survive, haven’t I?” She was eager to stop talking about her parents. “We don’t pretend.
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