His face warm, Captain Roding glared them into silence, and firmly marched his captive off down Piccadilly, heading for Stratton Street where the town house of the Alderley family was situated. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. She still kicked herself for it. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself.
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