Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the door pulled back. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her.
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