She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. ‘Thought it was downright wicked to keep you ignorant of your proper background. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. Things seem to come rather easily. The major will not call. Jack Sheppard is now wholly in my hands. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois.
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