“Sorry to be so terribly rude, Martin. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. ” She replied. ‘Eh bien, does that mean that you will do it again?’ ‘Not if I can help it,’ Gerald uttered, alarmed. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. ‘Speak, then.
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