Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed. "And, does any of our bright blood flow in the veins of a ruffianly housebreaker?" cried Trenchard, with a look of bewilderment. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. He was a stranger. He says only that he must tie up all the loose ends. ’ ‘Why the devil should you be interested, I should like to know?’ rejoined Roding.
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