It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. Here one might live the life of golden days. ” “Right,” he answered. It’s all nonsense. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades. ” He retorted smartly, looking at her with mischief.
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