Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and imprisoned in Courtlaw’s burning fingers. Montague Hill. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. “I’ll try to stop by. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position.
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