CHAPTER XXII. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. They were horrible people. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. “Eight, Cavendish Square. ’ To be sure there was a way. Light the lantern.
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