’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. Mr. " Starting at a rapid pace in the direction of the Old Bailey, and crossing Fleet Bridge, "for oyster tubs renowned," the trio skirted the right bank of the muddy stream until they reached Fleet Lane, up which they hurried. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. " "Because he said he was a Yale man?" "That might be it.
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