She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. In the afternoon she had considered certain doubts very carefully, and decided on a more emphatic course of action. I don’t see that men need bank it with the women. Our men had him fast, held down in a chair. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. ‘To begin with,’ he said, ‘allow me a very tiny intimacy. .
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