“My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. I wish very much that you had written before leaving Paris. “How can you change people’s ideas if you have no power?” said Kitty Brett. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher.
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