Here she walked more slowly, looking constantly at the notices in the shop windows. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. I never made any effort to touch them; so by and by they learned to light fearlessly on my arms and shoulders. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. But this time she wanted nothing for herself: she wanted something for Hoddy—success. Let me see my child, if he is really here?" "Behold him!" returned Trenchard, taking Thames (who had been a mute, but deeply-interested, witness of the scene) by the hand, and leading him towards her. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. You have never seen the child within your arms perishing from hunger, and no relief to be obtained.
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