It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. “We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. "Will he consent, to be searched?" inquired Jonathan. ” He looked at her with white, set face. ‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known.
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