Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. ” He said. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. ” He said.
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