He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. . . The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew. “A joke! Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should have greeted you in pained silence.
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