“She’s proclaimed herself queen of the school. She passed people in the streets and regarded them with a quickening apprehension, once or twice came girls dressed in slatternly finery, going toward Regent Street from out these places. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. ‘But there is something still I do not understand. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment. Her attenuated arms were crossed upon her breast; and her black brows and eyelashes contrasted fearfully with the livid whiteness of her skin. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth.
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