" "There's no hurry. “She’s going to have some sort of meal with the Widgetts down the Avenue, and go up with them. The girl’s eyes never left his face. . But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. He could not make good his hold. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. It vosh plain he vent dat vay. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. “There isn’t any way you could be worse than John. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him.
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