For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. . I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it.
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