What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word. Understand me! I forbid it. " "It's strange you should like Jack so much dear Thames. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. His subjects, however, were no longer entirely under his control; and, though he managed to enforce some little attention to his commands, it was evident his authority was waning fast. He closed the door. ‘That’s wicked, that is. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. —BRENDON. “I wonder,” he said, “if women do know things by instinct? I have my doubts about feminine instinct. It was the same Bios whose nature and drift and ways and methods and aspects engaged them all.
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