“Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. In the struggle her cap fell off. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. ‘Oh, you may come to me on any mission you like,’ uttered Mrs Sindlesham roguishly. I waited for them to get right out of the grounds. It would be difficult to find another human being subjected to so many angles of attack as Spurlock. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them.
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