" "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. You must let me do whatever I can for you. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. The newcomer stopped short upon the threshold. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop.
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