Neither of them believed me. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. Sheppard, distractedly. Her teachers and mistresses had done their best to stamp her mind with an ineradicable persuasion that it was tremendously important, and on no account to be thought about. ’ ‘You think it would have been better for me to stay as a nun and be killed like the Valades?’ said Melusine, brutally frank. For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain.
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