He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. “I will take a carriage,” she said, “and fetch my things. ” “I may come a little way, then?” he begged. ’ ‘Oh, a ruin,’ exclaimed Mrs Sindlesham, throwing up a hand. One who—who—tres. I naturally want to do it up in proper style. But his words were borne away by the driving wind. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII.
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