I asked him—to take me away. “We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. “They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said.
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