Last night Mr. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. There was a little pain, but it wasn’t anything. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again.
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