The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. ’ ‘Yes, that is Mr Brewis Charvill, as you have found out for me. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. But perhaps I had better get a room in an hotel to-night and look round. "I am sorry. “I don’t think she will,” she said. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly.
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