" "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. I’ve never met any one like you. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. One hour later she had gone back to the mission—without the salt. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would.
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