Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. . As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. It was a reputation by no means deserved. ’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. 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.
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