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The ladder was now within reach. . Father— dead. 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. Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. “Why?” He inquired. “Julian, please wait. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally.
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