She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. Her aunt did not object to capital punishment or war, or the industrial system or casual wards, or flogging of criminals or the Congo Free State, because none of these things really got hold of her imagination; but she did object, she did not like, she could not bear to think of people not having and enjoying their meals. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room.
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