She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. The land about these walls is a common graveyard. Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions. I was worried. ‘I don’t know that I dare. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. She did her best to do this. I had not seen the courtyard in many years and I was happy to dream of those times.
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