"
She had the strength of mind not to spin round. On the contrary she went
on to a shabby bit of a mirror on the wall. In the greenish glass her
own face looked far off like the livid face of a drowned corpse at the
bottom of a pool. She laughed faintly.
"I tell you that man's getting--"
"Papa," she interrupted him. "I have no illusions as to myself. It has
happened to me before but--"
Her voice failing her suddenly her father struck in with quite an
unwonted animation. "Let's make a rush for it, then."
Having mastered both her fright and her bitterness, she turned round, sat
down and allowed her astonishment to be seen. Mr. Smith sat down too,
his knees together and bent at right angles, his thin legs parallel to
each other and his hands resting on the arms of the wooden arm-chair. His
hair had grown long, his head was set stiffly, there was something
fatuously venerable in his aspect.
"You can't care for him. Don't tell me. I understand your motive. And
I have called you an unfortunate girl. You are that as much as if you
had gone on the streets.
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