She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. ’ ‘Yes, that is Mr Brewis Charvill, as you have found out for me. Oh, goodness! Bilking! Ann Veronica, you’re a bilker!” Pause.
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