Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. 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.
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