Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. . She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
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