" He laughed and pushed back his chair. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. ” Anna read, and her cheeks grew slowly scarlet. " "We know it," cried several voices. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight.
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