” “I may come a little way, then?” he begged. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs. This is your room. He’s just. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. Whatever she does is minimized.
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