What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. ‘Eh bien. She laid her hand upon his arm. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. But he was wide awake. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. All he will say is that she said so—as if anyone could believe a word the girl said. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me.
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