Something in her tone made him look up. “Eight, Cavendish Square. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. My mother shall never degrade herself by a connection with you. They're gone into the next room. His progress, however, was checked by loud acclamations, announcing the arrival of the Master of the Mint and his train. His firmness never deserted him till his old master, Mr. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied.
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