human
for the King and whined if one mentioned the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Amy lavished on him her surplus of affection--what was left after her love for mother, father, and brother, her affection for uncles, aunts, and cousins, and a stray friendship or two which survived from schoolgirl days. Dogs sometimes come in for these windfalls. But to-day her thoughts--as she made her way along the Euston Road and into Regent's Park--were less occupied with Snip than was usually the case. Obstinately they fastened themselves on Winnie Maxon; on more than Winnie Maxon--on ill-regulated affections in general. She had read about them in novels (which are so largely occupied with them), seen them exhibited in plays, pursed her lips over them in newspapers. All that was not the same thing--any more than an earthquake in China is the same thing as a burglary in one's own house. Here they were--actually in the family circle! Not mere
gpt
but a settled determination to set the rules at naught. What manner of woman was this Mrs. Maxon? What had driven her to it? She had
human
--so said Godfrey's letter. She now
gpt
which
human
She only
gpt
The phrases of the letter were vivid in Amy's recollection. A woman who rebelled against the law--ought not her case against it to be heard? Hadn't she at least a right to a hearing? After all, as things stood, she had nothing to do with making it--nothing direct, at any rate. That sounded a plausible plea for Mrs. Maxon. But on the other hand, because she had been wronged, or suffered ill-treatment, or had bad luck, to go on and do what was, by Amy's training and prepossession, the one absolutely unpardonable thing, the thing hardly to be named--
human
I don't see how she could, whatever she thinks!