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. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. She flushed with desire and happiness, her husband had returned to her and all would be aright. "My child!" he groaned faintly.
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