She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. I'll have no such toast drunk at my table!" "It's the king's birthday," urged the woollen draper. He was not particularly grateful for the present situation. “That is as you will,” she said. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed.
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