“Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me. What have you got to say?" "Too much," replied Kneebone, shaking his head; "sadly too much.
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