” “It isn’t,” said Mr. " "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere. This obstacle being removed, in his eagerness to proceed, he had forgotten to take his little charge with him. " Ben judged correctly. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless.
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