Much to her annoyance, therefore, Winifred was left alone with the woollendraper, who following up a maxim of his own, "that nothing was gained by too much bashfulness," determined to profit by the opportunity. I am not angry with you, but with this—this—’ ‘Idiot? Imbecile?’ offered Gerald in a helpful tone. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later.
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