She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. But though the shot took effect, as was evident from the stains on the ground, the villain escaped.
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