She was so interested, and this was such a relief from the trudging anxiety of her search for work, that she went on for a whole week as if she was still living at home. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. She cursed Satan and screamed at the heavens, praying to Mary frantically. And, incidentally, check on that unfortunate young fellow Kimble. “The life of a private secretary is positively one of slavery. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. "Speak plainly. "If any one's to blame, it's me. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another.
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