’ There was a pause. \" \"If only it worked that way! Oh, it’s just not fair. " "You may see the marks on the child yourself, if you choose, Sir," urged the widow. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “One has to live and learn,” she remarked, with a passable imitation of her father’s manner.
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