She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. ‘Move, you. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless.
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