When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. ’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. I believed I was strong enough to go on in silence; but I'm human like everybody else. The dark and desperate thoughts that were passing through his mind at this time will presently be shown. She obeyed, extending her arm. My father thought the latter.
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