\"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. Almost simultaneously they burst out laughing. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. Blueskin might have butchered you and your brat before I'd have lifted a finger to prevent him, if it hadn't suited my purposes to do so, and he hadn't incurred my displeasure. If he keeps his word, I'll keep mine. Give me the keys and the light.
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