. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. But his eyes were on the Frenchman, and as Valade moved up the other road a little way, the lad shifted alertly, and swiftly closed the distance to the intersection. Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr.
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