Wood was once a favourite of yours. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling.
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