They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. I thought he was in Newgate. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. A radiant smile astonished him. It’s a damned hard thing to do. “Yes. ’ She seemed to recollect herself suddenly. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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