This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. It's a thousand pities to hang so pretty a fellow. They became aware of the waitress standing over them with book and pencil ready for their bill. There was a young lad ahead of her. Where is this undistinguished husband?’ Leaping to his feet he seized his sword hilt and partly withdrew it from its sheath, saying dramatically, ‘I shall kill him immediately!’ Her eyes widened, but she did not move.
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