What was his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves. Your maid would not be of the least protection. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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