" "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. " "I, Sir!—I swear——" "Tush!" interrupted Jonathan, harshly. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve.
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