Montague Hill do not interest me in the least. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. Never! And they don’t know it! They have no idea of it. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. She was not obliged to go to the Tredgold College, because as yet the College had not settled down for the session.
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