Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. It had been intensified and corrupted by time, as if to add insult to injury. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself. Most of them didn’t, anyhow. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley.
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