Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. . ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. His name is John. Wood's advice and assistance, but the thought of the reception she was likely to meet with from his wife deterred her from executing this resolution. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination. ’ ‘Damn you, answer me!’ Her eyes flashed. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it.
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