256 Lucy chose her words carefully. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. So I packed up and came to London next day. " "I have no people—anybody who would care.
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