Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. “But I wanted to see you. ” Mr. The servants had left the room. She fidgeted and looked away. ” “Hah!” He threw his head back. ” “The truth!” There was a brief but intense silence. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. “I was in Paris four years ago,” Mr. "Not my king's," returned Wood. Such was the effect produced upon the passengers by his good looks and manly deportment, that few—especially of the gentler and more susceptible sex—failed to turn round and bestow a second glance upon the handsome stranger. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. I wish she wouldn’t look like that at us over her glasses. ‘Something in that, missie.
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