" "Stop!" interposed Edgeworth Bess; "Mr. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. No fear o' that. The image did not move. “But, dear, think! He is your father. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm.
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