She flew up from her stool and faced the door. ToC Nearly nine years after the events last recorded, and about the middle of May, 1724, a young man of remarkably prepossessing appearance took his way, one afternoon, along Wych Street; and, from the curiosity with which he regarded the houses on the left of the road, seemed to be in search of some particular habitation. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. ‘Certainly I have them with me.
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