5. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. I shall start at the bottom. “Girls of sixteen do not need their own laundry hampers. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains.
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