She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. It is a very good English name, no? But who is she?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, I should say,’ said Mrs Ibstock, correcting herself. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face.
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