She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. Manning called. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill.
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