Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time.
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