Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. “I suppose there’s no way of getting a decent income—independently. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. ’ Gerald dropped down to join her just as her hand came up, clutching the handle. “You will have some tea?” she asked. From the unlovely hillside his glance strayed to the several five-story towers of the pawnshops. You shall behold him. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation.
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