“Eight, Cavendish Square. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. Only a few, but enough for me to understand that some act had driven you to this part of the world, where the hunted hide. ' He muttered it continually. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him. .
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