The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. "To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. And it's a maxim of universal application: or, at least, of universal practice. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. Well, one must hope, that was all. “I didn’t know you were half-Gypsy either.
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