Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. Section 3. You and I.
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