"Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, "the nearest point to Wych Street. I ought to have seen—” “It doesn’t matter a rap—if you’re not disposed to resent the—the way I behaved. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. ‘The major thinks she’s worth it,’ put in Prudence quietly. “I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. He hadn't played fair.
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