She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. Aided by an individual, who was acquainted with a secret outlet from the tenement, Darrell escaped. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill.
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