Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. “Your sex is a terrible fraud. " The little girl's countenance fell. Wood's anxiety grew so insupportable, that he seized his hat with the intention of sallying forth in search of them, though he did not know whither to bend his steps, when his departure was arrested by a gentle knock at the door.
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