It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. . The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds.
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