The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Gerald’s temper flared. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. “You Mr. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. ‘How disappointing,’ mourned Gerald. “My dear Anna! As though I should think of depressing you with my long list of misdeeds. “Have you heard things?” The tears stood in her eyes. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved.
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