She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious. "Get it over quickly," said Trenchard, in a whisper to the thief-taker. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. It hardly served his interests. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. It consisted of a close jerkin of brown frieze, ornamented with a triple row of brass buttons; loose Dutch slops, made very wide in the seat and very tight at the knees; red stockings with black clocks, and a fur cap. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. "There! off with you!" whispered Mrs. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father.
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