Mind, I am anticipating events. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. The Morning Post was hungry for governesses and nursery governesses, but held out no other hopes; the Daily Telegraph that morning seemed eager only for skirt hands. Most unsatisfactory. ‘She’s gone.
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