‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. 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. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. He liked to be near me, he liked to be near any female, especially a young female. You told me he was going back to Newgate after supper, so I mayn't have another opportunity.
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