CHAPTER I. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. I’ll walk over there once I change clothes. Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. We'll try whether he'll get loose again. Was it ruined?’ ‘But yes, it was entirely ruined. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult.
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