‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. He'd have some fun with that Chinaman before the morning was out. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so.
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