Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. Anna sighed as she reflected that her sister had simply revelled in her indiscretions. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing.
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