Our quarrel's quite over. 55 <7> THE MANOR, 1349 They moved to the country manor in the autumn of 1349, when plague was still raging through the city. We’ll go to the shops. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. Marry, come up! I'm not so easily deluded. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. Rather a magniloquent term, perhaps, but what else am I to say? One of these is that the most absolutely selfish thing in the world is to give way to depression, to think of one’s troubles at all except of how to overcome them.
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