The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. Then enter Mr. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling.
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