She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. " "My boots! Fire and fury! They won't fit you; they are too large. The boy’s besotted. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. And, fearing you might not come to me, I forced my way hither, even with certainty of discomposing your friends.
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