How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. At this moment, Davies, who had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. “I think that you were inquiring for Mr.
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