Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. "Fear nothing, Sir," said the man, in a voice which Thames instantly recognised as that of Blueskin. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. He folded the garments carefully and replaced them on the chair.
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