"By the way," said the doctor, as he sat down in the dining room of the Victoria and ordered tea, "I've been thinking it over. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father.
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