Wood. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. It moved a trifle, stepping back and lifting an arm to rub the sleeve against the glass. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. "I beg pardon, Sir," replied Jack, with the accent and manner of the janizary; "I was betrayed into the exclamation by my surprise that anything in which Sir Rowland Trenchard was interested could have reference to so humble a person as Mrs. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. He returned, \"Can I walk you home then?\" She was completely taken aback and did her best not to show it.
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