These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. Wild allowed you to have your fine clothes again, or you might have been taken in a still more disgraceful garb. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. No man knew whence she had come nor why. I hope you have learned your lesson now and come to see—come to realize—how things are. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion.
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