She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. " "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house.
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