Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. “Bit thick on the old man, isn’t it?” said Roddy, who had developed a bluff, straightforward style in the motor shop. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. In their opinion a hundred pounds would not repair the damage done to the prison. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride.
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