Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. “We have come too close together for me to believe it. In his condition the boy apparently had been as safe as in the lock-up. Reluctantly she found him beguiling after he had eaten.
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