"So much the better," rejoined Sir Rowland. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. "I'll lay my life he's gone on a fox-and-goose-chase to Mr. His number was unlisted and unpublished. A dissipated, loose-living man. I didn’t believe him and I said so.
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