” Sebastian drove on. As to Mr. ” “I’ve told you,” he said. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. 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 hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether.
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