Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. “How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart. We dine at seven-thirty. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. Mr. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream.
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