And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. She let him have it all, as it was, after all, for the last time. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead.
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