Part 3 She dressed carefully for dinner in a black dress that her father liked, and that made her look serious and responsible. ‘Cover her, men. ‘They eloped. Yeah, I’m thirty-seven. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. She felt that there was a hidden meaning under his words.
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