We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. I will go with you.
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