Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. ’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. His smile faded. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times.
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