She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. \"Thanks for walking me home. I barely prevailed sometimes, but in the end, my wits were faster than their steel. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. ” “You have not answered my question,” he reminded her. ” 74 She hung up the phone. Afraid there'll be a love-affair.
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