The evenings were dulcet and soft. The place to which you went was not the English Embassy, and the whole performance was a fraud. "Hear me!" cried Thames, bursting into tears. “I do not blame him. Her family are solid West End people, Kensington people. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you some precious sport. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment.
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