” “I am frightened of Sir John,” he said, “but I suggest that we risk it. In Old Palace Yard everybody ran. ” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. She had started wearing the dresses he bought for her, the white and blue shift he said, “brings out the color in your eyes”. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure.
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