’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. “But it’s a long business. "I'm sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it. I know life. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. ” She paused again.
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