It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. This obstacle removed, he thought he might now make the attempt. Here's a couple in hand. Walking to the station with him. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. Sheppard. Her tone was icy.
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