” Capes waited patiently. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. She loped forward on unnaturally long legs and arms that swung loosely. Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. Ought she to walk into some of these places and tell them what she could do? She hesitated at the window of a shipping-office in Cockspur Street and at the Army and Navy Stores, but decided that perhaps there would be some special and customary hour, and that it would be better for her to find this out before she made her attempt. And every day's experience proves that I was right.
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