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. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. " "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. I followed you home on the train. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie. You understand me, I’m sure.
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