Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. What does he do these three days?’ She had come daily to the vestry, hoping to meet the lad and hear his report. ’ ‘I don’t, as a matter of fact,’ Gerald said decidedly, a frown creasing his brow. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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