She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried. No matter. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford.
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