My father thought the latter. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly.
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