The Night-Cellar. She ignored it until it repeated itself. So go up-stairs and get your things together while I look out for a hansom. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. “Damn”. Clearing the few impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured to snatch a moment's repose.
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