Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. . I’ve got to run to get to my Study Hall.
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