“And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. All our fraternity are afraid of him; but I laugh at his threats. He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment.
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