Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. "I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar,—"by your advice, Thames. A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna’s flat. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father.
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