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. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. Jonathan Wild brought him off. It is of no use. McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis. “I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. Unexpectedly he found himself speeding toward the father. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly.
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