‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. “But you must forgive me, John. I will marry you when Sir John gets his divorce, and I will do all I can to keep you out of harm. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. Earles declared. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered.
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