To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. "Could you get any of the music last night?" "Yes. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. "Do you think I'd part with the sweetest morsel of revenge on those terms? No! But I'll have the secret out of you by other means. " "No fear of that," rejoined Rowland: "such vermin never dare to show themselves in this privileged district.
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