She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. “If you say so, Lucy. " "I'll ring for one," replied Kneebone, rising accordingly; "but I fear my servants are gone to bed. “Since last night. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. White caught her eye, and smiled benignly down the table.
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