Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. The expression was wholly different. " "Never," replied Winifred. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. But I waited in vain. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. "Do you take me for a thiefcatcher, like Jonathan Wild, that you dare to affront me by such a proposal?" "No offence, Sir," rejoined the jailer, humbly.
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