There are lots of women like that in the world, especially in London.
They pretend that they think themselves superior to men, but they know in
their hearts that they are inferior to women. For they have not something
that women ought to have--No, Dolly, no brown studies here; you must not
dream here!"
Dora, with a light laugh, came back from her mental wanderings to find
herself looking at a face which caught her attention at once. It was the
face of a man--brown, self-contained, with unhappy eyes and a long
drooping nose.
"Who is _that_ man?" she inquired at once. "Now, he is quite different
from the rest. He is about the only person who is not furtively finding
out how much attention he has succeeded in attracting."
"Yes, that is a man with a purpose."
"What purpose?" inquired Dora.
"I don't know; I shouldn't think any one knows."
"_He_ knows," suggested Dora.
"Yes, _he_ knows."
Miss Mazerod was looking at the mechanism of her fan with a demure
expression on lips shaped for happiness.
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