“I will believe you. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. The signs of the shops were carried to incredible distances. . The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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