Mr. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. She would have to leave very soon. He had hired not one but two engineers to record the event, subsidized entirely out of his own meager pocket. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. As in all things, so his thoughts came to him deliberately. A remittance man. ‘Do not be imbecile.
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