“I was sick of the make-believe. This isn’t the place. "Nothing more than to obtain a favourable answer to my suit," replied Kneebone. He called to the other attendant, who held the torch. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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