" "I don't desire it, Sir," replied Mrs. The angels in Heaven shall not tear you from me. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
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