The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. These and her general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. By the way, what did he say when he was out of his head?" "The word 'Fool. The youthful couple had been seated in the carriage a few minutes when they were joined by Mr. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. In truth, she would quite like to have him rescue her.
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