Nevertheless, she was still fighting. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. “I will not have this slavery. It is better that you go away now, I think. But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said. “He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. “Thank you. He wasn't quite hard enough to win worldly success; that was his fault.
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