As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. Fine but strong lines marked the profile: that would speak for courage and resolution. “Thanks, so do you. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. "Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence.
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