Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. In his condition the boy apparently had been as safe as in the lock-up. He had, for the most part, been correct. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street.
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