"Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. ’ Alderley laughed. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home.
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