Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. He turned in at the club. "Do not—do not!" "He must!" thundered Jonathan, "or he goes to jail. For a time she worried about that compulsory bath and cutaneous diseases. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case.
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