" "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. A sob was strangled in her throat. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. ‘Dear me. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child.
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