” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. "If you get out o' that cage, I'll forgive you.
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