" "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. . She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. ’ ‘What heir?’ ‘Exactly.
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