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. ‘I believe that. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty.
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