As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. "You know not what you do. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. At least that, I think, is what makes a clever woman’s independent career so much more difficult than a clever man’s.
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