She laughed altogether in her old manner. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. I went to the theatre that night. ” “I am afraid I have not been very nice,” she said sadly. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. CHAPTER III.
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