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Updated: June 25, 2025
Frances advanced two steps into the room, fell upon her knees, clasped her hands together, and said in a weak and humble voice; "My poor husband pardon!" At these words, Agricola and the work-girl whose backs were towards the door turned round suddenly, and Dagobert hastily raised his head. "My mother!" cried Agricola, running to Frances.
"Of course, if I were a work-girl I should have done it better. They are not going to be very bad, I think." "What, the burns? Oh, no! They will have recovered, I am afraid, long before your dress." "Oh, my dress! yes, it is deplorable. I will go and change it." She turned to go, but she lingered instead, and said with an odd, introductory laugh: "I believe you saved my life!"
"Excuse me, madam," he said, "but I heard you mention the name of Nanina. May I ask whether you mean a pretty little work-girl who lives near the Campo Santo?" "The same," said the lady, looking very much surprised and interested immediately.
Pierre joined Celia and La Pierina in the anticamera nobile, where stood Don Vigilio. The few seats belonging to the throne-room had there been placed in a corner, and the little Princess had just compelled the work-girl to sit down in an arm-chair, in order that she might recover self-possession.
Perceiving, at the bottom of this wardrobe, half hidden beneath a cloak, a very shabby little trunk, Florine opened it hastily, and found there, carefully folded up, the poor old garments in which the work-girl had been clad when she first entered this opulent mansion.
Pierre joined Celia and La Pierina in the anticamera nobile, where stood Don Vigilio. The few seats belonging to the throne-room had there been placed in a corner, and the little Princess had just compelled the work-girl to sit down in an arm-chair, in order that she might recover self-possession.
She herself had never been a servant never; she had never sunk below working with the needle for sixteen hours a day for a payment of ninepence. The work-girl regards a domestic slave as very distinctly her inferior. 'But that's a long while ago, she ventured to urge, after reflection. 'That makes no difference. Do as I tell you, and don't argue.
On thus beholding, in that gloomy asylum, this young lady, so marvellously beautiful, and remembering the delicate kindness with which a few days before she had received Agricola in her luxurious little palace of dazzling splendor, the work-girl felt her heart sink within her.
"I'm thinking of studying. Some social question. I thought perhaps I might go and study social conditions as Mrs. Bailey did, go perhaps as a work-girl or see the reality of living in, but Mrs. Bailey thought perhaps it wasn't quite my work." "Are you studying?" "I'm going to a good many lectures, and perhaps I shall take up a regular course at the Westminster School of Politics and Sociology.
She is do not be too much startled she is nothing more than a work-girl in the papyrus factory of our excellent host, Plutarch." "That is not the truth," Pollux interrupted, indignantly, as he heard this assertion. "Moderate your tongue, young man," replied the dealer. "I can call you to witness, noble Plutarch." "Let her be whom she may," answered the old man, with annoyance.
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