The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. It came to Ann Veronica one night after a long talk with Miss Miniver, as a sudden remarkable thing, as a grotesque, novel aspect, that this slowly elaborating biological scheme had something more than an academic interest for herself. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me.
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