Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. He insisted once again on opening the car door for her. Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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