She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. Charley Pevenill was our host. ‘Parbleu, the house, is it broken in the least? I do not think so. The chapel was crowded to excess. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas.
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