" "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. I never could. I cannot do it, David. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. Other girls gathered around like sheep. "Going to befuddle himself between now and dinner," was the comment of Prudence.
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