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. She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. "And you have seen … drunken men?" Prudence's tones were full of suppressed horror. He became a little less en garde. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. He is already married. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced.
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