She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. Jack affected to close the door, but left it slightly ajar. T’weren’t fitting, we knew that. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. By policemen one mustn’t shock. She would never again be lonely. Of course, one doesn’t like to talk about things until there are things to talk about.
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