’ ‘So you think she is an émigré?’ Lucilla put in before the incensed Roding could respond. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes.
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