The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. Piercing through every crevice in the clothes, it, in some cases, tore them from the wearer's limbs, or from his grasp. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. ” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch.
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