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. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. The key is in my trousers. "Back!" he cried fiercely.
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