A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. ‘You, Mademoiselle Charvill, are as unlike most of your sex as you can be. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. “I am not dependent upon any one.
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