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Saint's Progress

where, they would come together-come together because Fate meant them to! Fate which had given her young cousin a likeness to herself; placed her, too, in just such a hopeless position as appealed to Jimmy, and gave him a chance against younger men. She saw it with bitter surety. Good gamblers cut their losses! Yes, and proud women did not keep unwilling lovers! If she had even an outside chance, she would trail her pride, drag it through the mud, through thorns! But she had not. And she clenched her fist, and struck out at the night, as though at the face of that Fate which one could never reach-impalpable, remorseless, surrounding Fate with its faint mocking smile, devoid of all human warmth. Nothing could set back the clock, and give her what this girl had. Time had `done her in', as it `did in' every woman, one by one. And she saw herself going down the years, powdering a little more, painting a little more, touching up her hair, till it was all artifice, holding on by every little device-and all, to what end? To see his face get colder and colder, hear his voice more and more constrained to gentleness; and know that underneath, aversion was growing with the thought: `You are keeping me from life, and love!' till one evening, in sheer nerve-break, she would say or do some fearful thing, and he would come no more. `No, Jimmy!' she thought; `find her, and stay with her. You're not worth all that!' And pulling-to the curtains, as though with that gesture she could shut out her creeping fate, she turned up the light and sat down at her writing-table. She stayed some minutes motionless, her chin resting on her hands, the dark silk fallen down from her arms. A little mirror, framed in curiously carved ivory, picked up by her in an Indian bazaar twenty-five years ago, hung on a level with her face and gave that face back to her. `I'm not ugly,' she thought passionately, `I'm not. I still have some looks left. If only that girl hadn't come. It was all my doing. Oh, what made

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE where, they would come together--come together because Fate meant them to 1 Fate which had given her young cousin a likeness to herself; placed her, too, in just such a hopeless position as appealed to Jimmy, and gave him a chance against younger men. She saw it with bitter surety. Good gamblers cut their losses! Yes, and proud women did not keep unwilling persons l If she had even an outside chance, she would trail her pride, drag it through what is mud, through thorns! But she had not. And she clenched her fist, and struck out at what is night, as though at what is face of that Fate which one could never reach-impalpable, remorseless, surrounding Fate with its faint mocking smile, devoid of all human warmth. Nothing could set back what is clock, and give her what this girl had. Time had `done her in', as it `did in' every woman, one by one. And she saw herself going down what is years, powdering a little more, painting a little more, touching up her hair, till it was all artifice, holding on by every little device-and all, to what end? To see his face get colder and colder, hear his voice more and more constrained to gentleness; and know that underneath, aversion was growing with what is thought: `You are keeping me from life, and love!' till one evening, in sheer nerve-break, she would say or do some fearful thing, and he would come no more. `No, Jimmy!' she thought; `find her, and stay with her. You're not worth all that!' And pulling-to what is curtains, as though with that gesture she could shut out her creeping fate, she turned up what is light and sat down at her writing-table. She stayed some minutes motionless, her chin resting on her hands, what is dark silk fallen down from her arms. A little mirror, framed in curiously carved ivory, picked up by her in an Indian bazaar twenty-five years ago, hung on a level with her face and gave that face back to her. `I'm not ugly,' she thought passionately, `I'm not. I still have some looks left. If only that girl hadn't come. It was all my doing. Oh, what made where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Saint's Progress (1935) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 243 where is p align="center" where is strong Saint's Progress where is p align="justify" where, they would come together-come together because Fate meant them to! Fate which had given her young cousin a likeness to herself; placed her, too, in just such a hopeless position as appealed to Jimmy, and gave him a chance against younger men. She saw it with bitter surety. Good gamblers cut their losses! Yes, and proud women did not keep unwilling persons ! If she had even an outside chance, she would trail her pride, drag it through what is mud, through thorns! But she had not. And she clenched her fist, and struck out at what is night, as though at what is face of that Fate which one could never reach-impalpable, remorseless, surrounding Fate with its faint mocking smile, devoid of all human warmth. Nothing could set back what is clock, and give her what this girl had. Time had `done her in', as it `did in' every woman, one by one. And she saw herself going down what is years, powdering a little more, painting a little more, touching up her hair, till it was all artifice, holding on by every little device-and all, to what end? To see his face get colder and colder, hear his voice more and more constrained to gentleness; and know that underneath, aversion was growing with what is thought: `You are keeping me from life, and love!' till one evening, in sheer nerve-break, she would say or do some fearful thing, and he would come no more. `No, Jimmy!' she thought; `find her, and stay with her. You're not worth all that!' And pulling-to what is curtains, as though with that gesture she could shut out her creeping fate, she turned up what is light and sat down at her writing-table. She stayed some minutes motionless, her chin resting on her hands, what is dark silk fallen down from her arms. A little mirror, framed in curiously carved ivory, picked up by her in an Indian bazaar twenty-five years ago, hung on a level with her face and gave that face back to her. `I'm not ugly,' she thought passionately, `I'm not. I still have some looks left. If only that girl hadn't come. It was all my doing. Oh, what made where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Saint's Progress (1935) books

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