As the night advanced, Mr. She passed people in the streets and regarded them with a quickening apprehension, once or twice came girls dressed in slatternly finery, going toward Regent Street from out these places. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself.
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